Our Hibaku tree seed never sprouted. We were sad not to succeed in germinating this very special immigrant from Japan. We wanted so much to have this great grandchild of the Hiroshima survivors take root and thrive under our care. Perhaps it was a little over loved, planted too deep, watered too much, it's hard to say. But luckily for Uta it wasn't a complete no-show. In its place several tiny mushrooms emerged, one by one, each rising victoriously from the barren soil, and one by one, withering and dying after only a day of life. Uta was delighted by the theatrics of the mushrooms, laughing out loud at their mysterious emergence and equally sudden departure. I was just relieved to have a little life, even if it wasn't the one we were hoping for, come out of that overly watched pot.
Hiroshi Sunairi, our friend, and the artist behind the tree project asked Uta to document his experience for his show at the New York Horticultural Center. Uta wrote a very sweet account of all that happened. His story was displayed, written in Uta's own hand, atop a photo of himself. Uta was honored to be a part of it. And now he is quite certain that he is famous.
Check out The Tree Project here.
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