A few years ago I decided I wanted a new rhythm for my life, one that wasn’t determined by a clock. I even went to therapy to address my anxiety about time. “There is no tiger,” the therapist told me. There was no imminent threat in the form of a predator, no emergency. I argued back that my metaphorical tiger was time—I could not create more of it. And so in the spring of 2023, time on the brain and intent on making some memories, I decided to take a trip to Japan to chase the brief blooming of the sakura, or cherry blossom trees. I wanted to better understand the country’s celebration of the ephemeral. I wanted a different way to think about time.
Sakura are deciduous trees. Their English name is a misnomer, as most do not produce cherries. In the early 20th century, Japan presented thousands of the trees to Washington, D.C., as symbols of living friendship. The trees now thrive everywhere from Christchurch, New Zealand, to Macon, Georgia. But the cherry blossom is ubiquitous in Japan, marking significant shrines and temples, lining rivers and canals, and gracing city parks. There’s a whole industry behind the celebration of these trees; these short, commemorated cycles of Japan’s floral fireworks epitomize the phrase “for a limited time only.” Retailers offer their special cherry blossom treats and merchandise for just a few weeks.
“I would venture to say that it is like the stars and stripes of the American flag,” says Tokyo Tourism Representative Hisashi Tsumura. “The cherry blossom as
