Hydrangeas are in full bloom. Each blossom is a raindrop wrapped in petals, swelling together into plush pom-poms that drift from powder-blue to royal violet in a slow, painterly gradient—utterly captivating.
Native to Japan, this deciduous shrub comes with a mixed bag of floral symbolism: “fickleness,” “pride,” “family unity,” “domestic harmony,” even “impermanence” and “infidelity” all jostle for space on the same tag.
Of these, “fickleness” is the crowd-pleaser, obviously inspired by the flower’s habit of changing colour—but that association is surprisingly recent, likely dating no earlier than the Meiji era (1868-1912).
My fellow Ehime native, the Meiji-era haiku master 正岡子規(Masaoka Shiki), nailed the sentiment in a single breath:
紫陽花や きのふの誠 けふの嘘
(Hydrangeas, yesterday’s truth, today’s lie.)
Convictions fade quickly; the human heart is nothing if not capricious.
Step back to the Edo period (1603-1867) and the plant was better known by its rainy-season nickname 七変化(shichihenge) “the flower of seven transformations.” Writers marvelled at the literal colour shift but stopped short of turning it into a metaphor for unfaithfulness.
The closest we get is 小林一茶(Kobayashi Issa)’s playful line:
紫陽花や 己が気儘の 絞り染
(Hydrangeas, every blossom, tie-dyed by its own caprice.)
Charming, yes—more observational than philosophical.
Leap further back to the eighth-century 万葉集(Manyoshu), Japan’s oldest surviving anthology of verse. Courtier 橘諸兄(Tachibana no Moroe) wrote:
紫陽花の 八重咲く如 やつ代にを
いませわが背子 見つつ思はむ
(May you flourish through countless generations,
like the hydrangea’s many-layered blooms.)
Here the plant stands not for flightiness but for prosperity and enduring bonds.
By the late Heian period (ca. 1100), poet 源俊頼(Minamoto no Toshiyori) paints an ethereal scene:
あぢさゐの 花のよひらに もる月を
影もさながら 折る身ともがな
(Could I but pluck the moon-light pooling
on each hydrangea petal, shadow and all.)
An image as fragile as dew on silk.
Seasons turn, feelings shift, and even the meaning of words refuses to sit still. Much like the hydrangea’s chameleon hues, our interpretations brighten, fade, and bloom again.
What’s considered common sense today may well be nonsense tomorrow. Just because something is accepted as “right” now doesn’t mean it truly is. I’d like to keep a cool head and approach things with that perspective.
