A few years ago, I marveled at the plum blossoms in Atami Plum Garden and Ikegami Plum Garden. This year, I was delighted to witness the early blooms at Ushi Tenjin Kitano Shrine and Koishikawa Kōrakuen in Tokyo last February.

Ushi Tenjin Kitano Shrine, about a ten-minute walk from Korakuen or Kasuga stations, was a new discovery for me. I was particularly drawn to its famous koubai (red plum blossoms). Finding the shrine wasn’t easy—the route winds uphill from a street corner, unmarked by signs, until suddenly, a steep staircase appears, leading to the shrine gate. Yet, the moment I caught sight of the dainty pink plums lining the stairway, I knew the climb had been worth it.

Dating back to the 12th century, the shrine is dedicated to the renowned Heian-period poet Sugawara no Michizane. Legend tells of Shogun Minamoto no Yoritomo, who, on his way to battle, stopped to rest at this location and dreamt of Michizane seated on an ox (ushi). In the dream, the poet revealed two prophecies: first, that Minamoto would have a son who would become the second shogun, and second, that he would win the war. When both predictions came true, Minamoto built the shrine in gratitude.

Two oxen statues stand guard at the shrine’s entrance, echoing Michizane’s dream. Nearby, a stone ox called Nadeishi is believed to enshrine his spirit—those who stroke it are said to have their wishes granted. Though modest in size, the shrine is embraced by red, white, and pink plum trees, offering a breathtaking sight. One of its most charming features is a wooden panel shaped like an ox, adorned with rows of white omikuji (fortune slips). If you’re lucky, as I was, you might even hear a chorus of birds singing from the branches.

Every mid-February, Ushi Tenjin Kitano Shrine celebrates its Plum Blossom Festival.

Since Koishikawa Kōrakuen was nearby, I decided to visit and see its plums as well. I had previously explored the garden in autumn, but experiencing it in the transition between winter and spring was an entirely new sensation. A historical treasure from the Edo period, Koishikawa Kōrakuen was once a property of the Mito Tokugawa until 1869. The garden boasts 150 plum trees in 40 different varieties, nestled in a quiet corner at the rear. Shades of delicate pink, white, and even yellow painted the landscape.

Unlike cherry blossoms, which bloom in clusters, plums tend to appear as solitary bells, sometimes two or three on a branch, their spacing evoking a sense of poetic fragility. To truly appreciate them, one must step closer, observing their quiet elegance. In Japan, the ume is revered as a symbol of resilience and perseverance, for it dares to bloom amid winter’s chill. This auspicious flower is a beloved motif in New Year greetings, poetry, paintings, and its fruit, an essential ingredient in Japanese cuisine.

In these uncertain times—amid political turmoil, social unrest, and personal struggles—the ume serves as a quiet yet powerful reminder: to endure, to persevere, and to find beauty even in adversity.

On my last day, I ventured on a tiny escape from the city to the outskirts, to the antiquated town of Iwaseshima, about thirty minutes from Toyama City by the Light Rail tram. Toyama has a very efficient tram transportation system that also sparks nostalgia of the olden years.

While strolling through the alleys, I also spotted several temples and shrines—Moriryu-ji, Kyoshu-ji, and Yoganji temple, many over 500 years old.

Have a taste of your own Toyama adventure this year!