Yesterday we were blessed with an absolutely splendid autumn day. Wanting to get out of the city and enjoy nature, the husband and I ventured to a nearby arboretum to enjoy the wonderful afternoon. The temperature was pleasantly cool, but a bright sun warmed the red-gold leaves of trees just beginning to turn. The spicy, earthy scent of pine needles was thick on the air, a promise of cooler nights to come.
As we walked, we stumbled across a collection of bonsai that were donated to the arboretum nearly a hundred years ago by a former ambassador to Japan. I don’t know much about bonsai, but I’ve always harbored a curiosity about the tiny twisting trees. Although these bonsai varied in size and type–cypress, cherry, and even a Japanese maple with tiny spiked leaves as red as blood–they all seemed to possess a gravity and elegance belied by their small size. And that’s when I realized how ancient the bonsai were.