I felt happy and comforted when our cherry tree blossomed after incessant rainy days here in the Pacific Northwest. True, this region is known for rainy days. But, this winter has been almost unbearably wet and sunless even for this area. (In addition, the almost unhinged U.S. political situations resulting from the last election exacerbated the sunless condition brought about by nature.) So I was delighted when I unexpectedly spotted pinks on the treetops as I drove along the streets in late March. Then, suddenly in early April our cherry tree began to blossom gradually when sun showed its face for an extended time (of two days). It made me happy. Yet, I felt a vague sense of sadness because the extended weather forecast told us rain would come back. This sadness is, of course, the sense of transience (what Japanese calls “mujo” or “hakanasa”). I was resigned to the foreseeable future of a cherry tree surrounded by myriad of pale pink cherry blossom petals on the wet ground. Then, gusty winds came. The wind danced like a crazed spirit outside. Some tree branches were knocked down. So I was surprised and very touched when I opened our front door to find the cherry blossoms still hanging onto their lives. This made me realize that there is no such a thing as “fate” or “destiny.” Cherry blossoms, which are symbolic for transience, can be resilient even when sturdier-looking trees lose their grounds.
March has arrived, but it seems winter storms are still roughing up people in many parts of the US. But, in our area already cherry trees began to blossom, announcing the arrival of spring. I wonder if it is impossible climactically to have calm weather all over the world.
On a sunny afternoon as I walked our dog I was greeted by pink blossoms of a few cherry trees. As usual, I felt elated by the nature’s show of its power of renewal, rebirth. The sun was shining, peeking through the luscious green of tall fir trees that surround us. For this reason, we had a longer walk today. Although our dog seems to enjoy a longer walk, he often tried to turn back homeward – mostly due to his Pavlovian tendency, I think, to repeat what he learned automatically. He is a creature of habit even more so than we are.
I called up Century Link, our land-telephone provider, to cancel the so-called “call-waiting” service because it often cut off our ongoing telephone communications. It was particularly frustrating when a solicitor’s call interrupted and then cut off our call to some service person after being kept for a long time. As usual I was kept on line for a long time, then finally when I talked with a live person he forwarded my call to another “phone repair” service which offered very limited options from which I was asked to choose, and then finally to a live person whose silence after I said something made me wonder if the person was at the other end. The whole process took about 1 hour. My husband said it is their tactic to give a customer a hard time when that customer is trying to disconnect a service.
After a 2-week vacation, the human-related social reality is a hard place to come back even when the weather is glorious.