~\ The Trillium & the Sakura /~

(My article from four years ago - updated for its reappearance!)

???? I write this at the height of the Sakura experience. Here in Toronto, the cherry trees bloom throughout this urban world – most notably in 399-acre High Park. They are the sakura, a gift to this city from the Japanese Ambassador many years ago. (www.sakurainhighpark.com)

?? This blossoming abundance traditionally brings together masses of people in great admiration and picture-taking. (In 2020, the entire park was closed off; 2021 the park was open, but with fencing around the trees; in 2022 it was again human-accessible, and mobbed. In 2023 – accessible, but not to cars. And in 2024, still partly accessible.

Not too far from this cherry blossom close-up or long-range-lens heaven-on-earth, are other, wilder parts of the park where you can see examples of what Wikipedia calls "a spring ephemeral, a plant whose life-cycle is synchronized with that of the deciduous woodland which it favours."

The wild trillium, a (usually) white 3-petaled flower, is a rare form of life in the urban world. But years ago I found two half-hidden sites, in southwest High Park and Lambton Woods along the Humber River route, near slender trees tall as cathedrals, and where sunlight and shade create a kind of otherworld. It's a yearly pilgrimage, a "quest" for me.

?? For me, the excitement of seeing that first trillium (after heart-stop at what turns out to be a bit of paper) is a kind of Holy Grail experience. It seems almost sacred – its purity, its trinity. Seeing the rarer red, purple and striped trilliums is another special experience. And looking around to see that they, half-hidden, are actually carpeting the forest floor, is magical indeed. Others seem to magically pop up in front of trees worthy of Middle Earth.

?? The late Stephen Hawking encouraged us to “remember to look up at the stars” – but I have found that looking down at your feet, in the right kind of deciduous woodland, can pay some nice floral dividends. I think of trilliums as stars of the earth.

?? Sometimes we can do really well with the less obvious, something of benefit buried beneath first glance. It can be life-changing, biz-enhancing, a learning experience, a love match. A quick Google search the same day brought me a wealth of articles:

* From Forbes, The Globe and Mail and others, I got “six hidden opportunities that will enhance your networking." "How A1 (artificial intelligence) can cut costs, uncover hidden opportunities in Healthcare." "10 must-read books" to help you find the "hidden opportunities of using WordPress." The "hidden opportunities" of "Six debt-laden stocks that could be attractive buys" – and more.

* Next in the hidden-opportunities vein were some articles on metal-detecting, a subject I wrote about many years ago, especially as its equipment was becoming very smart and computerized. I also saw "the top ten treasure hunts in fiction," "hidden gems" found in Crete, Chicago and Quesnel BC, stories about an ancient Buddhist statue containing a hoard of artifacts, and how "Hidden Treasure in Dublin Houses a Thriving Community."

?? Then I found a Word document by Shelton Schools that reads "When you write, it is like you have a buried treasure that you are trying to show your reader." If you write well, it says, you will elaborate your ideas so that you uncover this treasure and the reader will be able to see, feel, and experience it.

???? I think the key is that we make our own journeys of discovery in our writing, our reading, our visual experiences, our professions, and our lives. At times we respond to the all-out eye candy like High Park's blooming cherry trees –?given to the citizens of Toronto?for their support of Japanese-Canadian refugees after the Second World War.

Other times it's the trillium in the woods that does it. Neither is this 3-petaled bloom really in the shadows. It's Ontario's provincial flower and Ohio's state flower. And it has inspired the Trillium Cup, prize of Major League Soccer teams in Toronto, Ontario and Columbus, Ohio, friendly rivalry. That's something I just discovered for myself today.

And as if that weren't enough, it seems that many white trilliums turn pink as they age (just found that out from a LI connection), while the rarer red trillium (Wake Robin or Stinking Benjamin) is a shot of royal colour. And its roots may have been used in childbirth centuries ago, helping bring the new life into this world.

Birth, the beauty of nature, the treasures of growing, learning and discovery – equally ours in these challenging times.

~~ ~ ?? ~??~??~ ??~?? ~ ~~