Summer romance
Where others normally go to theme parks and temples, we went to gardens — vast flower farms brimming with summer blooms.
The air smelled of roses and herbs, so sweet we could almost taste them when we breathed. In the background were the snow-capped Japanese Alps.
It was already summer, but the air was cold. The snow had not yet melted. The wind still carried with it the echo of the winter that had just left.
Hills rolling with golden fields and flowering potatoes peppered the farmlands that alternated with the roadside. There were lavenders on the side streets.
Behind the ruins of what was once a castle was a sleepy old village. The plain white neighborhood served as a canvas of lovely June lilies, summer pansies, purple lupines and thick, thick bundles of hydrangeas painting the backyards blue, purple and pink.
There was a blue pond. We were told its blueness was brought about by an accident.
Long ago, to protect the town from the outflow of the volcano, the people decided to build a dam. But the dam did not withstand the water current.
The structure caved in, and all the minerals that were used to build it settled at the bottom of the pond, causing the water to appear blue.
Or maybe, we imagined, it was just some fairies who played around with magic dust and sprinkled them on the surface of the water. So, when they come around again, they no longer have to fly so high; beneath their wings, they already have the blueness of the sky.
The cherry trees were green. But they were lovely just the same. The fringes of their leaves touched the ground as they danced with the wind.
The cherry trees could have been cut down some time ago, but the people pleaded to keep them. They pleaded by writing poems and hanging these on the trees’ branches.
The mayor of the town heard of this, and wrote his own poem with a promise that he would let the cherry trees be. He did, and the town rejoiced.
From then on, every spring, the townspeople visit the cherry trees to watch the trees’ white blossoms fall, as if shedding tears of happiness for having been given a chance to see another season again.
There’s wisdom in visiting temples and theme parks, but we prefer romance. And what could be more romantic than summer flowers, snow-capped mountains, and poetry on cherry trees’ branches.
On days when dark clouds seem to veil our hearts, we sit silently and recall such scenery, and we know right away that everything is going to be okay.
That, still, somewhere in the world, everything is beautiful and well, trees are saved by poetry, and destruction, such as a volcano’s wrath, is merely nature’s way of unmasking true, ethereal beauty.
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Windy Perez Añonuevo, 27, is a lover of the outdoors.
