I had coffee with my friend Hugues this morning. I suggested we meet at a Japanese cafe within walking distance of my house.

It proved to be a fitting choice, as Hugues had brought me a gift made by an artist specializing in Japanese pottery. It was a gorgeous saucer and coffee mug, bearing the words "Vielen Dank" ("Thank you very much" in German). Hugues has been studying German in Duolingo as I have been studying Brazilian Portuguese. We have supported and inspired each other in our learning endeavours. Hugues also had the artist write "1500 Jenesis" on the mug to mark my achievement of 1500 posts in my blog.

I loved these touches, of course, but I especially appreciated Hugues' explanation of the symbolism of the red camellia flower that decorates the mug. He explained that the Tsubaki flower symbolizes impeccable charm and beckons spring to return.

I later read a post by the Felt Florist, who provided additional information on the The Tsubaki:

The red camellia has long been a symbol of beauty, grace and perseverance in Japanese culture. Its deep crimson petals evoke the vividness of a fiery sun while its delicate bloom serves to represent the infinite nature of life itself. It has become the embodiment of courage, resilience and strength owing to its fantastic ability to survive and thrive in even the harshest conditions. It is believed that those who wear or carry a red camellia can show their boldness in facing adversity with integrity and grace; thus, this timeless flower carries with it monumental symbolism.

In a post about 11 Different Kimono Patterns and Their Meanings, Stefanie Akkerman states:

The tsubaki, or camellia flower, has been popular in kimono patterns since the Edo period. These flowers are seen as a sign of hope since they start blooming in winter as a promise of the spring that is soon to arrive.

It felt especially meaningful to receive Hugues' gift this week. The red camellia flower reminds me that spring always returns. The problems I am experiencing now will not last forever. I told Hugues that I would keep that thought—spring always returns—in mind whenever I start to dwell on my current setback.