If I were a thousand years old, I would not look this good

The Miharu-no-Takizakura weeping cherry tree, Fukushima Prefecture

This tree is so famous, it has a name: Miharu-the-Waterfall-Cherry. There are bus tours from Tokyo that go to see it (and also stop at Hanamiyama Park, another fab cherry spot) several times a day during The Season.

But why?

I mean, it’s just a pretty tree, right? And there are plenty of cherry blossoms that aren’t in the middle of nowhere (and don’t require a several hour bus ride to get to).

Why do people still flock here every year and stand in a long line, just to get a snapshot with her?

*Yes, the sightseers with orange jackets are legion, EVEN HERE*

But this tree has not only been crowned the most beautiful cherry tree in Japan, it’s got a history to conjure with. I mean, look at it. This tree is a THOUSAND years old!

It has cranked out cascades of blossoms like this every spring, a thousand times. Even when it freakishly snows in the middle of cherry blossom season, Miharu-no-Takizakura keeps on keepin’ on.

Lady Miharu was already a blushing beauty when the Vikings attempted to make red hair A Thing all over Europe

If they’d gone pink instead, Miharu-no-Takizakura could have saved our ancestors a whole lot of raping and pillaging.

Already blooming when the crusaders were chasing the Holy Grail

The Crusaders were not big on viewing cherry blossoms, but history would have treated them a lot more kindly if they’d marched over to enjoy the pinkness of Our Lady Miharu instead of chasing that pesky cup.

Her Serene Pinkness had already celebrated her 250th birthday when Genghis Kahn came knocking

If G.K.’s plan to add Japan to his empire in 1274 hadn’t been thwarted by a freak storm, he and his horde could have hoisted a cold one under Miharu’s blooms

They were still copying books by hand until Dame Miharu was four centuries old

She had already starred in over 400 cherry blossom seasons when Gutenberg got around to inventing the printing press.

You get the idea. Not only has this tree has been partying it up since my peasant-y forebears were scratching a living from the rocky soil of the Old World, she will keep on dishing out the goodness long after I’m gone.