Hanami

Walking onto the university campus after lunch today, I found myself immersed in an unexpectedly large crowd.  The university is between terms, and this was a larger crowd than I see on class days during term.  It was a larger crowd than I see on football days, when the campus is inundated by elderly men and women in purple and gold sweatshirts.

What brought everyone onto campus, two days before Spring Quarter, on a sunny weekend Saturday?

My photo gives it away.  The sun was bright, the sky was blue … and the cherry trees were in full blossom.  They draw crowds every year at this time, and the crowds this year seemed larger than ever. 

And more diverse.  As I wandered amongst large families -- many just standing and staring and photographing, others walking about and bumping into each other as they looked upward, eyes wide at the beauty before them -- I was amazed at the many languages I heard about me, and the obvious cultural differences among the viewers.  Seattle, once a city of Scandinavians, has become a far more cosmopolitan burg in the past few decades.  Thank Microsoft.  Thank Amazon.  And thank our location on the Pacific Rim.

Cherry trees are scattered about the campus, but the main concentration of both trees and spectators today are and were within the Upper Quad.  The Quad itself is a large rectangular space surrounded by eight buildings built in College Gothic style.  The thirty trees planted along the sidewalks within the Quad are Yoshino cherry trees.  They were purchased in 1939, and originally planted in the Arboretum, near my house. They were transplanted to the Upper Quad in 1962, when what is now State Route 520 was built across their corner of the Arboretum.

Ever since I remember, we have been hearing dire warnings that they have nearly reached their life expectancy and will soon have to be cut down and replaced.  "Rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated," as the man said, and they remain attractive all year long, and absolutely overwhelming when in blossom.

When I mentioned today's crowds in a note on Facebook, a Japanese-American friend remarked that I was witnessing an American version of hanami.  My Japanese being somewhat weak, I had to look it up.  Hanami (花見) is the Japanese custom of "enjoying the transient beauty of flowers," which in Japan usually means cherry blossoms.  Unlike our unstructured gawking, in Japan the blossom-viewing is accompanied by large parties with much food, parties that go on long into the night.  Wikipedia suggests that the Japanese proverb "dumplings rather than flowers" suggests the real priorities of many of the party goers.

I prefer to consider the Japanese as more ethereal and sensitive than ourselves, however, walking quietly and reverently beneath their trees.  Perhaps, twirling parasols?  I've watched Madame Butterfly too many times, I suppose, and visited Japan not at all.

Anyway, today was Seattle's hanami, under beautiful spring skies, and it was worth the stroll across campus.