the world is blooming! by Allison E. '27

You know those “four seasons” posters that elementary school teachers put up on classroom walls? They always summer, fall, winter, and spring with the colors of a tree: from green, to orange, to white, to pink, and back to green. Even past elementary school, in fact–my high school’s orchestra room door had a textbook version of these posters for their concert (Vivaldi’s “The Four Seasons”).

btw this is 35 sheets of 17”x11” paper painstakingly de-bordered (cut) and taped together–definitely a lesson in patience and attention to detail LOL

The last time I lived somewhere with four seasons (as opposed to constant summer) was in elementary school, so this is more or less the image of seasons that exists in my head. When it comes to summer, fall, and winter, I feel like these depictions do a pretty good job capturing what’s iconic about the season, whether that’s the sun shining on a sandy beach, or scarlet leaves caught in their moment of descent, or the sparkling blanket of freshly fallen snow. Even if motion is important to these moments–a breeze blowing, leaves falling, or snow drifting downwards–a single, static image is enough to capture at least the heart of those seasons’ joy.

But spring⁠01 once again, late post, it's June now, and I am disappointed in my time management 😅😭 ? Spring is something different.

I used to think the problem with these classroom posters was that trees filled with pink flowers aren’t even realistic, but I’ve learned the last few months that it’s not a lie. I thought it was just the cherry blossoms, because they’re all anyone talks about. And sure, there’s a good reason: cherry blossoms absolutely gorgeous. Trees with dark, delicate branches fully covered in soft pink petals–it’s flowers straight through, and they’re magical.

Cherry blossom tree near Building 66

The thing is, I thought it was just the cherry blossoms. I thought they were a hyperbolic archetype of pink-flowered trees–an exaggeration of a spring where some trees might grow a handful of flowers (speckled against a backdrop of green), and most do little more than sprout leaves and continue on their merry way. But it’s not just the cherry blossoms.

It started when I noticed the massive flowers emerging from a tree near Lobby 7, MIT’s main entrance to the central academic buildings. There weren’t a ton of them, and most of them were still tucked into their fuzzy little pods, but it only took them a couple of days to fully emerge.

About a week later, as I walked down dorm row to class, I noticed two trees with some buds emerging as well. They were pale green and fuzzy, large and… oh. They were definitely the same as the ones near Lobby 7. Except there were a lot more of them.

And then, day by day, the buds started opening up. I could see hints of pink. Then white. Then the petals started separating, and THEY BLOOMED!!!! I’ve never seen this many massive flowers bloom all at once and all in one place. It’s truly one of the most magical experiences I’ve had in nature–all these enormous petals gazing up at the sun with dark pink veins reaching up towards the white tips–and they were right along my daily walk from dorm to classes.

Previous Next

Over the next few weeks, I quickly learned that the magnolia trees are far from the only things blooming on campus in April and May. I guess spring really does live up to the image of flower-covered trees (at least in Boston)! I have more than a hundred photos⁠02 I’m a terrible photographer, so uh… quantity over quality LOL in my camera roll of flowers all across campus, so I’ll put a handful below if you’re curious:

I LOVE THIS TREE!! it's outside Baker, and it has so many flowers, and they're *so pretty* ajdhajfhsj

Flower bushes outside of BC! I swear every time I look at them, there's some new flower growing there

outside building 34--the flower density here is *crazy*

outside building 8

outside building 34

outside building 6

Previous Next

But as beautiful and photogenic as all the flowers are, they’re not what I loved most about springtime. Certainly not the way that fresh snow is the most powerful moment of winter for me (I LOVE SNOW), or the way that a picture of auburn leaves falling captures the spirit of fall. For me, the defining experience of spring was not the flowers, but watching them grow.

I love walking down dorm row each morning to see the bushes just the slightest bit denser with green, or the daffodil petals spread out just a bit more beneath the sun. Every once in a while, I’ll notice a new color for the first time–the vibrant red of a not-quite-tulip(?) emerging from the ground, or tiny specks of green dotting a tree that was once bare. Then there’s the transitions past spring and towards summer–when the neon green⁠03 I did NOT realize that “spring green” was indeed based on real life LOL of freshly-budded leaves darkens to a deeper shade, or the flowers fall petal by petal⁠04 I also didn’t realize that most flowers drop individual petals instead of falling off whole! IT’S SO PRETTY THIS WAY in what practically looks like snowfall.

spring green! in the median along Memorial Dr.

baby leaf buds ☺️ outside building 24

outside building E25

daffodils appearing!! ft. actual snow LOLL on my walk along dorm row

flower petal snowfall! outside BC

Previous Next

Nature is changing at all times of the year, of course, but it’s so much easier to notice the little bursts of green appearing on the blank canvas of winter than it is to notice the patches fading to yellow against an already vibrant summer. There’s also just… the joy of watching things grow. Seeing the leaves emerge over the course of many days makes me feel like I’m a part of it all. I like to imagine that I’m the one turning the clock hands round and round, coaxing the flower buds open and unfurling leaves and slowly darkening the colors of springtime. It’s a grandiose little delusion⁠05 probably fueled by a childhood love of the Tinker Bell movies , but a fun one nonetheless!

Because of all this, the defining experience of my first springtime in Boston really has been watching all these slow and incremental changes around me.

Aaand maybe inside me as well, because now that I’m looking back on my first year at MIT, I’m realizing how many similarly slow ways I myself have grown.

In the day-to-day chaos of the semester, I always looked to “Things I Did 💪🏼” as my touchpoints of pride and growth–cooking a massive meal with friends, helping run an ESP program or Science Olympiad tournament, or traveling alone. But I didn’t really notice or appreciate the more gradual changes. With scores of new people met and new friends made, I’ve learned how to make conversation more easily. In meeting after meeting with my UROP⁠06 Undergraduate Research Opportunity, where students get to contribute to real research on campus (oftentimes for pay!) supervisor or lab, I’ve learned to speak with confidence about my work. From new club position to new club position, I’ve learned how to navigate new responsibilities (without the crutch of an experienced person directly beside me). I’ve learned how to take notes in lectures, I’ve learned how to shop for groceries (kinda), how to live with roommates, how to work with less sleep, and so much more.

There’s nothing photogenic about the process of learning how to shop for groceries⁠07 especially learning that I should buy frozen broccoli instead of frozen green beans, because I can put shoyu and sesame oil on microwave-cooked broccoli and absolutely DEVOUR my way through a bag, but in order to eat green beans without crying inside I actually have to saute them in oil, on a stove, with minced garlic, and then wash the pan three times to make sure it’s not still greasy 😭 , even if the end product is rather nice. But it’s that slow progression–that transition from the tiny bud of a skill to a fully bloomed ability–that’s the experience that’s been the most fulfilling. And in this case, it’s not a delusion to imagine that I’m the one turning the clock hands round to make it all happen :D

P.S. As hard as I tried to capture the joy of watching everything grow with my deluge of photos, there was only one way I could do it a little bit of justice. So… here’s forty-five⁠08 or like... most of the forty-five pictures of the same tree along dorm row from March through May.