Water Mirror Cherry Blossom Spirit: A Day and Night Stroll in Nakajima Park, Sapporo

This trip to Hokkaido to photograph late-blooming cherry blossoms was perfectly arranged by "Trip.com," with hotels offering mountain views, lake views, and finally, a "garden view." The last hotel, aptly named "Sapporo Park Hotel," sits right by Nakajima Park—what a unique "garden view" indeed, a lakeside retreat. In the morning, I stepped onto the dew-kissed paths of Nakajima Park, quietly brushing past cherry groves. Sunlight filtered softly through the blossoms, glistening on pink-white petals adorned with crystal-clear dewdrops. Ancient trees, deep and lush in their early spring vigor, cradled the radiant cherry blossoms tenderly. The pond rippled gently, blossoms floating on its surface, the crisp air refreshing the soul. This serene place was once a royal retreat during the Meiji era, imbued with imperial grace. Stone bridges, ancient trees, and ponds still whisper of its elegant past. Now, time has washed away its exclusivity, transforming it into a beloved oasis for Sapporo’s residents. Joggers pace lightly along stone paths, elders practice tai chi under the shade, mothers smile at toddlers wobbling by benches, and groups of girls on holiday sit beneath cherry trees, blending into the scenery. The weight of history here melds seamlessly with the warmth of everyday life, weaving a new chapter of spring. I love shooting landscapes at dawn and dusk, so as twilight fell, I returned to the park. Dusk, nature’s master colorist, worked its most enchanting magic. The delicate pink-white blossoms of daylight now seemed dipped in layers of rouge, their hues deepening and intensifying impossibly. Near the hotel entrance, two trees that had blushed faintly in the morning now glowed with a rich, wine-dark radiance, as if absorbing the day’s light to shine with a subdued, profound brilliance against the darkening sky. This chromatic transformation, wrapped in evening mist, felt intensely magical. And all this splendor was captured perfectly by the park’s central pond. The "Iris Pond," its surface now mirror-smooth, no longer rippled as it had at dawn. It greedily, faithfully reflected the sinking sky—a canvas of indigo edged with molten-gold embers of sunset, but most breathtaking of all, the inverted cherry blossom clouds suspended in its depths! Suddenly, three wild ducks startled with a "quack," wings flapping urgently as they skimmed the water, shattering the painted stillness. Nearby, a few mandarin ducks drifted serenely through the interplay of light and shadow, their calm a striking contrast to the earlier commotion. The blossoms and water at dusk held their own quiet, mysterious rhythm. As the light faded further, I lingered, glancing back repeatedly. The cherry blossoms, now deepened by twilight, burned even brighter, their reflections in the water growing richer. The gnarled branches, dense clusters of flowers, and layered colors were perfectly mirrored, yet the water’s shimmer added a dreamlike fluidity. Dusk gently blurred the line between reality and reflection, creating a symmetrical, mesmerizing cherry blossom dreamscape. Back at the hotel, the petal-shaped chandelier in the lobby glowed brilliantly. As if heaven willed it, this "cherry blossom fate" in Hokkaido will forever bloom fully in my heart.