In search of cherry blossoms

I know I am as usual woefully behind the times (by several hundred years, in this case) but lately I've become obsessed with the Japanese custom of hanami, or cherry blossom watching. Maybe because I've been sick, or maybe for a number of other reasons I won't go into here, I've been feeling kind of negative and depressed for the last few weeks or so, and the idea of inviting a small group of friends to join me in the park for an afternoon tea party under blossoming cherry trees has taken hold of my imagination in a very pleasant way.

There are certain trees that I keep track of in this town, including two almonds and two different kinds of flowering plum that I took especially loving care of at my last house (which I've been secretly missing a lot this winter, for some reason). The thought of those four trees being neglected and unappreciated by the house's new tenants – a pair of antique dealers who only use it for storage – really breaks my heart. The almonds will be putting out their sweet little delicate white flowers sometime in the next month and the plums will blossom shortly after that, first the pink one, and then the white one. It was a modest display but something I used to look forward to with great anticipation every year.

There was (is) also at that house a large thicket of quinces, which have fabulous pink and white flowers that bloom forever when you cut a branch to bring inside. And also, a tall sort of prickly tree outside the kitchen window that had (has) thousands of huge clusters of dark pink flowers that look great on the tree, in a vase, in a jar, in a bowl, in your hair, in a travel mug in the car – anywhere. I loved that tree, too.

At Mr. A's house there are apple, peach and pear trees that have beautiful flowers, as well as about a dozen other fruit and nut trees that offer smaller, less conspicuous blooms (walnuts, persimmons, figs), plus several potted Meyer lemons with little clusters of waxy, pinkish flowers that smell like heaven .... The apple trees are my special favorite – that's why I'm building my alleged studio in front of them – but I'm realizing right now that what I really want, in the middle of a cold, dark, rainy winter, is the knowledge that before February is through I'll have branches full of almond blossoms to look forward to, followed by those gorgeous pinky plum blossoms.

Is it too late to get bare-root fruit trees? I will have to find out. In the meantime, I've set myself the task of scouring the valley in search of soon-to-be flowering cherry and/or plum trees, so that I can start planning my hanami party. I want to do a simple little woodcut print for the invitation, and order a few special kinds of tea and treats, and make some little origami things for the gift bag. Other ideas are percolating as well.

Suddenly, I feel a lot better about this being (in spite of the official beginning on Dec. 21) the real start of winter. One of the best things about winter, to me, has always been planning for spring. And actually, even winter itself isn't all that bad around here. This morning on my way to work I noticed a striking scene – a 30-acre hayfield dotted with ancient oaks, the bright green grass still sparkling with frost, with a very thin but very dense layer of pure white fog blanketing the ground, under an utterly clear, cloudless and intensely vivid blue sky ... With the sun shining on all this, it almost looked like snow. But not. It was a purely Northern California image.