The Ephemeral Beauty of Cherry Blossoms / by Kumiko Jitsukawa

The weekend before last, I held a matcha workshop at one of my favorite shops in Connecticut, hoping to time it with the blooming of the cherry blossoms. But snow fell just days before, and the buds remained tightly closed.

Then, three days ago—the day before Easter—I went to Central Park in search of blossoms. This time, the weather felt more like midsummer: over 83°F, and many of the cherry blossoms had already bloomed and scattered in the warm breeze.

I finally found the cherry blossoms still in bloom in Central Park on April 19th, 2025.

Whenever I miss the cherry blossoms, it feels as if I’ve missed something deeply important. In Japan, sakura are more than just flowers—they embody the spirit of the country and reflect the heart of the Japanese aesthetic.

Cherry blossoms along the Central Park Reservoir on April 19th, 2025

Their history dates back to the Yayoi period (around the 10th century B.C. to the mid-3rd century A.D.), when rice cultivation began and cherry trees were believed to house the spirits of grain. At that time, however, plums—imported from China during the Nara period (710–794)—were more beloved by the nobility, prized for their rich fragrance.

In the Heian period (794 to 1185), as Japan began to embrace its own cultural identity, cherry blossoms, worshipped since ancient times, rose in popularity. Their subtle beauty and spiritual symbolism began to appear in poetry, art, and ritual. These breathtaking flowers bloom only briefly before their petals fall like snow. This transience—this sense of impermanence—is at the heart of Japanese aesthetics. Everything that has form will one day disappear. That is why it is so precious.

Wagashi: Kohakutou (琥珀糖) in the shape of Cherry blossoms

In recent years, each spring, I’ve been making cherry blossom-shaped Japanese sweets for my matcha workshops. Through them, I hope to share the quiet message of Japanese culture: to live in harmony with the seasons.

For me, the Way of Tea—known as the tea ceremony—is a practice of presence: connecting with nature, with others, and finding beauty in simplicity. In doing so, I return to a place of calm within myself.

Did you enjoy the cherry blossoms this year? Although I missed their full bloom, sakura sweets gently reminded me of what matters most. I hope they remind you, too.

Enjoy spring. Enjoy beauty. Enjoy this moment, because nothing is permanent.

A bowl of matcha and Kohakutou (琥珀糖) in the shape of Cherry blossoms