I should mention that most cherry blossoms do not grow on their own, but are grown by cutting off a piece of a tree and attaching it to a sprout to grow. It may be disappointing for some to learn that cherry blossoms aren't found in every nook and cranny of Japan, at least in the Kyushu region, as movies might suggest. But you can usually see them on strips decorating the roadside, or spotted in the mountains, shimmering in their week of splendor. But here, in the castle garden, it was my very first seeing such a dense canopy of pink. The supple, plump red buds and spry petals that radiated out in groups of five, youthful, shining bursts. Through the gaps in the foliage, the ruins of Fukuoka castle were visible; only its stone foundation remained. It was made up of stacks of smooth grey rock that slanted upward in a four-sided pyramid. It was only then that I remembered the vastness of this once grand castle that seemed to stretch on and on. I started to wonder about what a Hanami festival like this one would have looked like 500 years ago.
These blossoms have been deliberately placed in parks, castles, temples, and riversides for many generations. Hanami celebrations trace back to around 1,200 years ago, when it was once reserved for aristocrats and rulers. The Hanami of the past were shows of power by rulers which continued to the new samurai ruling class, until eventually it was shared with the common people in around 1700. Cherry blossoms became symbolic of the samurai way of life, being short-lived yet beautiful. The shortness of the blooms is also connected to the concept of impermanence in the phrase "mono no aware", which is a Japanese saying that emphasizes appreciating the temporary and beautiful in life.
