Tanglets...

...because they can't be tangents if there wasn't a topic to begin with...


***

A typhoon bears down on Tokyo, early dismissal just in time, kids shrieking and running for the busses, staff scattering to our homes… and all my thoughts of work are banished, I can’t focus on a book, as the wind howls and rain slaps against my windows. I hunker down, drink wine, stream TV, slightly on edge as darkness falls -  until the wind blows itself out and I relax into sleep...the next day dawns bright and shining clear, but the carpet of green leaves torn asunder is a solid reminder that I did not imagine it all…

****

A rainy and chilly morning transforms magically into a crisp and cool afternoon… blue sky clear and pale, high-flying clouds, park lawns and paths crowded but (as always) it seems the sound is on mute as my tires whir. 

****

Saturday dawned autumn, and I headed out on my bike to Jindaiji temple, marveling at the indescribable but oh-so-recognizable perfection, inhaling deep, as if I could breathe in the sky,  let it inhabit my lungs and flow in my veins....

Monks chant as I approach the cleansing smoke, my steps sounding too loud as I crunch across the gravel. I feel a bit like an intruder, but approach nonetheless, tossing my coin into the wooden slats with a clink, taking in the sacred, making it mine, offering a moment of thanks and appreciation....

Shops and restaurants line the road, getting ready for the day, the usual silence broken by clinking dishes and the occasional conversations, the ‘irasshaimase’ of the girls selling sticky  balls of rice and steamed dumplings…

Groups of suited and somber people start to appear, and as I wander down a path I happen upon a cemetery -  granite headstones, bright spots of fresh flowers, and the spikes of wooden slats… it’s the weekend of the equinox, and these groups of people gather around graves to pay respect to the dead – some merely following tradition, stoic faces. others clearly in the newer stages of grief... and I slip quietly away…

****

sock-clad feet shift in ryhthm

to gain a moment’s reprieve

from night-chilled boards

the silence is sharp

as the morning air

til the rooster’s call

shatters it into stirring fragments

the sun slides up,

fresh,

turning the mist from

pink to milky white

where the base of of the great mountain

rises  from the hills

We started off to KEEP (our grade 6 trip to the Kiyasato Educational Experiment Project) under deep blue skies, chatting and laughing and straining at seat belts. Surprisingly soon we are spilling from the bus to the sight of a grassy field sloping away from us, drawing our eyes to green hills, and beyond, Mount Fuji’s cone rising smooth and sporting a dusting of new snow.

Advisory pictures, lunch in the sunshine, then off on a hike – up the sun-baked road and into the welcome cool of the woods, up and down and around…. picking our way down along a trickling creek, stones and moss and muck, dipping hands into the ice-cold water, exclaiming at hoof-prints in the dark earth…. Up a rocky hill, around bends, under shady boughs  and into squinting sun… the final strectch a stony, dizzying attempt to stay on our feet…

Our reward is fresh, delicious ice-cream, enjoyed on the patio as kids run and play. As the air cools towards evening we split off to settle into our cabins, claiming beds and negotiating the shower order… dinner and evening activities stretching us into tiredness….hot chocolate and teeth-brushing and some late-night stargazing and giggling as the girls delay bedtime…

The sun continues to grace us with her presence on day two, as we collect treasures to piece together into works of art with the aid of hot glue, tape and imagination. Our afternoon walk reveals interesting nature facts and nifty tricks (if you walk with a  mirror under your eyes, you see the canopy as a dormouse sees it! You can turn a blade of grass into a whistle! This small green berry holds a powerfully potent citrus scent!), and gives us a chance to milk a cow as she gazes at us with large, patient eyes.

I have two lovely hours of freedom this night, and I sink into my book and luxuriate in a hot shower before going back to collect my charges, hyped up from scary stories and past the point of tired… we wind down with some hangman and hot chocolate as the fog rolls in.

A flurry of packing the final morning, breakfast followed by some free time to shop, eat ice cream (still delicious at 9 am), buy souveneirs, and watch the cows that appear in the neighboring field, phantoms in the mist that covers the mountains this morning.

We shake cream to make butter as the sun, butter-yellow herself, starts to force her way through, and we board the bus to return to the stifling heat of the city....

*****

Saturday soundtrack: neighboring school hosts some sort of festival. music, singing, cheering, and (when curiosity finally gets the best of me) dancing.

*******

....then something happened, on a seemingly innocuous, if somewhat cloudy, sunday afternoon.

I put on a sweatshirt.

And  I eyed the sundresses hanging in my closet and realized I won’t be wearing them until spring.

And what is this feeling my feet are getting? Is this coziness? From being encased by SOCKS?

*****

Feet cold this morning on the bike ride to work. Swan song of the sandals.

Sunset in Nogawa. Fall blooms – (who knew such a thing existed!) pink and white and yellow and crimson, dog-walkers and joggers and bikers, kids playing in the stream and running in the grass.

****

"October is a symphony of permanence and change."

-Bonaro W. Overstreet

And so it is.