Cherry Blossoms Before Winter Novels & Stories

When I passed by the greenery, a branch suddenly snagged my hair. I tugged slightly, but instead of freeing it, I pulled down a whole spray of petals. A hand suddenly reached out and gently helped untangle my hair. "What the—" I winced inwardly, blaming the overly lush landscaping in these rich neighborhoods. How were there already flowers blooming at this time of the year? "Are these peach blossoms?" I muttered exasperatedly. A calm voice came from above, "They're cherry blossoms."

The Retiro in April is exactly what she promised. The cherry trees (cerezos en flor — cherry blossoms, a relatively recent tradition in Madrid's parks that has grown in popularity partly due to Japanese cultural influence and partly because Madrid's springs are genuinely spectacular when the trees cooperate) along the north end of the park produce the specific kind of beauty that requires no commentary — the kind that makes people stop mid-sentence and look. Ethan stops mid-sentence and looks, which she finds satisfying in the particular way of someone whose descriptions have been trusted enough to act on.

"But I love you." "I know." "That is enough." "Yes. It is." --- November turns into December. The cold gets colder. The dark gets darker. The days get shorter. The roses do not come back. They will not come back for months. But the oak tree stands. Bare and brown and beautiful. The oak tree does not care about the cold. The oak tree knows something the roses do not. The oak tree knows that winter is not the end. Winter is just the thing that comes before spring.

“Have it while it’s warm.” Miles suddenly rose to his feet and walked into the kitchen, picking up that apron. The fabric was soft, carrying a faint scent of cooking smoke. He clenched it in his hands, then let go. The rain fell harder, streaking the windows. Trees outside bent and swayed in the wind. Miles stood by the window, staring at his reflection. He suddenly remembered how terrified Wendy had been of thunderstorms. On rainy days, she used to curl up in his arms, burying her face in his chest.

[Sera] Spring arrived in Seattle the way it always does. Reluctantly, and then all at once. Three months after the hospital. The cherry blossoms on our block opened on a Tuesday, and by Wednesday the sidewalk between Vance's and Voss & Grain was carpeted in pink petals that stuck to everyone's shoes. Lulu collected them in fistfuls and deposited them in Killian's shop, which he pretended to mind and didn't.

I feel my face heat up, but I direct my eyes forward and narrow them at the tree in front of me. Yes, they are, but you really shouldn't take a great balance of appearances. The reason we have hanamis in the first place is that cherry blossoms don't last long and we have to enjoy them while we can. Meanwhile, as ugly as that scruffy tree in the desert was, it will continue to be there for many years to come, despite the harsh surroundings.

I thought about being four years old and that sure, I thought about what it cost and what it was worth. Parents arrived in the particular way of people who are trying to appear casual about something they are not remotely casual about: phones out, good angles identified, the collective held breath of people about to be completely undone by small children singing about weather. Ethan had not been to one of these before, I knew that without asking, through observation, through the texture of his silences. He'd missed the winter one. He'd been in Tokyo, he'd sent flowers to the nursery, which Lily had accepted graciously and which had not, she'd made clear, been quite the same.

Karica’s POV It was still morning when we landed in South Cambia due to the time difference between both continents. The air was slightly crisp but nowhere near as cold as that of the North. We had very moderate winters in the South. I took a deep breath and the familiar smell of cherry blossoms filled my nostrils. They lined the sides of the road and their pink flowers blanketed the grey turf. “These cherry blossoms are beautiful just like my mate,” Xynathius spoke from beside me, a hint of a smile tugging at the sides of his lips.

She would no longer be a Princeton. Her face now dry of tears, she spread her arms as she stared up at the petals of cherry blossoms raining down on her, landing on her face and body. She chuckled and whispered, “Spring is nearly over.”

The closest thing they had done was him looking for Yvette abroad in those three years. She looked out the window and said, "It's fall now, and there won't be any cherry blossoms."