Three hours of traffic out of Tokyo on Golden Week, we escaped the city to stopped to smell the flowers. The enchantment that is Ashikaga Flower Park.
My best friend, boyfriend, and I spent the rainy afternoon leaving crowds and cares behind to “move our eyes across the variety of colors as though we were unfolding a wisteria picture scroll.”
Life can be so fast, so crushing, so full of concern that we miss the most phenomenal things.
The three of us stood in the rain, deliberately turning our backs on obligation and preoccupation for a few moments to stare at a gentle giant who survived 150 years and an uprooting that required cranes.
A few of the Wisteria trees, four of them from a nearby farm, were transported over twenty years ago. Now they stand strong, flourishing in canopies, tunnels, and walls of clustered flowers. The park blooms in eight distinct floral seasons, each with its own soul.
The fragrance in the air, the pattering of the rain, the presence of my close loved ones, they were all worth the traffic and time invested to get here. We chose to breathe deeply, to savor the things that mattered most. A day full of value mid the chaos of Golden Week. A day full of flowers and worth.