The plum blossom, our greatest 'friend' of the winter

If anyone had ever told me as a child growing up in the United States that a flower could flourish in the coldest days of winter, a flower that bloomed straight from the bare branches of a tree, I would have thought they had a vivid imagination or a penchant for spinning tall tales.

Yet years ago in late February, while strolling the eastern shores of the West Lake in Hangzhou, Zhejiang province, with my husband, Jun, I encountered a spray of brilliant pink petals cascading over tree branches, which looked as artfully windswept as a bonsai. That striking shade, more typical of spring and summer flowers, seemed utterly defiant against the melancholy gray of the overcast sky and the mournful silhouettes of other trees, their leafless limbs stretched upward as if praying for an end to the chill of the season.

I almost didn't believe my eyes at first. Surely flowers couldn't bloom like that, direct from the branch, without the usual green leaves? And how could they thrive in this weather, where temperatures that hovered just above freezing had led us to don our warmest down jackets and even hats?

After my astonishment, I felt a certain appreciation for this ethereal beauty before me, painting the otherwise dreary February landscape into such a gloriously hopeful hue, promising better times just around the corner.

That is the power of the plum blossom, one of the most distinctive and cherished flowers in China.

My initial encounter with the plum blossom would lead me to seek it out in subsequent winters in Hangzhou, longing for the heartening sight of its flowers in the deepest cold of the season in January and February. On one trail through Xixi wetlands just after snowfall, my husband and I encountered a grove of trees adorned with rows of creamy yellow plum blossoms. While not as splendid in color as those I first viewed beside the West Lake, these flowers perfumed the air in a beguiling fragrance full of optimism, even amid the bleak white scene all around us. I inhaled the scent with greedy breaths, knowing that these flowers would only remain a short time and the first blooms of spring still wouldn't emerge for weeks if not months.

In China, people have long known plum blossoms as one of the "three friends of winter", or sui han san you, along with the evergreen pine trees and bamboo. These "friends "retain a certain vitality easily forgotten in this most trying season of the year. Among the three, the plum blossom stands out as my favorite. There's a Chinese saying: The fragrance of the plum blossom comes from the bitterness of winter. Is there any more marvelous symbol for resilience than a flower that unfurls its aromatic petals despite the frigid temperatures and the snow? I have found great inspiration in remembering the spirit of the plum blossom－that even in the "winter" of life's challenges, we can find the strength to bloom and grow, displaying our own beauty to the world despite the hardships.

January and February bring with them the bluster of winter, which can overwhelm even the best of us at times and dampen our cheer. But nature has endowed the Earth with a trio of winter wonders that light our way through this season, and that includes the plum blossom. A tree, bereft of any signs of life on its branches, can still produce such a dazzling array of sweet-scented flowers as frost threatens the world around it, standing as a miracle and one of the greatest "friends" of winter.