"Are we to look at cherry blossoms only in full bloom, at the moon only when it is cloudless?"

Wrote Yoshida Kenkô in one of my favorite books "Essays in Idleness."

"To long for the moon while looking on the rain, to lower the blinds and be unaware of the passing of the spring—these are even more deeply moving. Branches about to blossom or gardens strewn with faded flowers are worthier of our admiration."

I found the quote in the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, in an article on Japanese Aesthetics.



I'm not saying my attitude was anything Japanese —

The blossoms of the Japanese cherry trees are intrinsically no more beautiful than those of, say, the pear or the apple tree: they are more highly valued because of their transience, since they usually begin to fall within a week of their first appearing. It is precisely the evanescence of their beauty that evokes the wistful feeling of mono no aware in the viewer.

— but we paused among the fallen petals yesterday in Brooklyn:



The branches of that cherry tree are seen in the upper right corner of this photograph, taken at the end of March, before there were any blooms.



This large, intransient monument is in Cadman Plaza. You can read the inscription on it here.