As summer presses on, the air thickens with a humid weight, clinging to skin and slowing each breath. Cicadas, relentless in their chorus, fill the long afternoons with their piercing song. The dog days of summer have settled in, heavy and unyielding.
Kiri hajimete hana o musubu (Paulownia trees begin to form seeds) ushers in the season of Greater Heat. In Japan, the Paulownia is no ordinary tree. It is the emblem of the Prime Minister’s office, the official seal of the Japanese government, and a motif that adorns family crests in countless variations like these.
The tree itself waits patiently in youth, often a decade, before it casts its first seeds into the world. When it does, it does so lavishly — up to 20 million a year. Even if felled, the Paulownia is not easily silenced. From its roots it sends out new shoots, a quiet defiance written into its very being. Root cuttings from young trees can be planted and will grow again leading to a cycle of loss and renewal that requires no witness.
It is no wonder the Paulownia is entwined with the phoenix in Japanese lore. Some say these celestial birds choose only to perch upon its branches. Others believe the association comes from the tree’s uncanny ability to rise again from its roots. Perhaps both are true. Perhaps the stories are born from the quiet, regenerative power of a tree that knows how to begin again.
In these lingering, sweltering days, pause as the Paulownia does. Let this be your season of stillness, of gathering unseen strength. Allow what feels scorched within you to cool. Like the phoenix on the Paulownia’s branch, rise when the time is ready.