Cherry Blossom Crowds, Small Trains, and a Lesson in Perspective
To see cherry blossoms in Toronto’s High Park, people wait in long lines. For ice cream. For the toy train. For photos. For almost everything. On a weekend during peak bloom, a small red train loops around the park, packed with riders. We watched it pass three times, completely full. No one got off. No one got on.
At our stop, a young staffer stood nearby but didn’t care that no one could board. My friend Shahreen got frustrated. “Wait here,” she said, and ran off toward the first stop of the route to see what was happening. She called: “They’re loading everyone at the first stop. That’s why it’s full when it gets to us.” I didn’t argue.
We rushed to the first stop and joined a growing crowd. Another staffer—older, more serious—blocked the doors when the train arrived. “No, next train,” she said firmly, letting only a few people on.
Cherry Season in Toronto’s High Park
Cherry blossom season in Toronto happens around mid-to-late April or early May. The trees bloom for about 2 to 4 weeks depending on the weather. High Park is one of the city’s top spots for cherry blossom viewing.
- Estimated bloom period: 14–28 days per year
- Peak visitor days: weekends between April 20–May 10
- Number of trees: over 2,000, donated by Japan in the 1950s
Even during off-peak hours, the crowds are large. People arrive early. Some wait for hours just to board a small open train that holds around 20 passengers. It’s not on tracks. It just drives around the park slowly. And yet, this tiny train sparks excitement.
A Moment That Changed My Mind
At first, the hype seemed silly. We’re from Bangladesh. We’ve crossed rivers by boat and bridges by rail. Why stand in line for a mini train? But when it started moving, I smelled fresh grass and faint floral sweetness. Shahreen looked at me and smiled. I smiled back. It felt worth it.
After two or three stops, we got off to take photos. That’s when we hit the real challenge. Crowds with large cameras, tripods, lights—everyone wanted the perfect shot. Big trees had the heaviest foot traffic. We couldn’t even get close.
So we changed strategy. Instead of going for tall trees, we found a small one with plenty of blossoms. We placed our jackets and bags down, stood in front, and started snapping photos. It worked. We saw others copy us a few minutes later.
We checked our phones. At least five photos looked good enough to post. We glanced at each other. “Done,” our eyes said. “Let’s go eat.”
The Problem With Comparing Cherry Blossoms and Sheuli
Every time someone posts a cherry blossom photo, someone comments: “Give me your cherry, take my sheuli.” It’s a line from an old Bangla song. I had never heard the song before. I looked it up: a 1980s film song from “Lal Memsaheb.” The fourth line is the key part:
“Let’s be in love, you and I.”
But let’s be honest. Would I really swap cherry blossoms for sheuli flowers?
No.
Cherry blossoms last about 4 weeks. Some years, even less. They don’t have a strong smell. Their color is pale—somewhere between pink and white. It’s a soft, delicate beauty. But where we’re from, flowers are bold. They bloom in bright red, orange, purple. Sheuli, bokul, rajanigandha—they smell strong. You don’t need to see them. You know they’re nearby.
Cherry blossoms don’t work like that. They appear suddenly. Then disappear. They feel quiet. Temporary.
Still, there’s value in that short moment.
A Small Canadian Train and a Childhood Flashback
Riding the High Park train brought back a memory. Dhaka, early 1990s. Six taka rickshaw ride to my aunt’s home. It passed my favorite road—between Shahid Minar and Nilkhet. Lined with bright red krishnachura trees. No need for music or camera filters. Petals fell gently on our heads as the rickshaw moved. My mother would brush them off and fix my hair.
Years later, I went to university nearby. I walked that same road many times. But it never felt as magical. I was too busy, too tired, too distracted.
Maybe the train reminded me to notice things again.
A Small Routine, A Small Shift
Shahreen and I visit High Park every spring. We try to match our clothes with the color of the blooms. This year, I wasn’t in Canada. She texted me, “If you’re not here, we’re not going.”
But she went. She had to. Her daughter Arisha is old enough now. They went with a stroller, snacks, and hope. Arisha probably looked at colorful ice cream more than the trees. But at some point, a cherry petal likely landed on her. Shahreen probably brushed it off, fixed her hair, and smiled.
That’s how it goes.
Not every moment needs to be perfect. But sometimes, even small ones leave a mark.
