Only a Blockhead

Unhappy truth?

I write this in front of a wood-burning stove. It generates warmth, and the flames play and dance. I chose this way of heating at no small expense to put my money where my mouth is: to live a life more beneficial to the planet. The same motivation I had for installing solar panels.

 I know there are downsides to solar panels—pollution upon manufacture for example—but on balance, and when compared to the costs and dangers of conventional nuclear power generation, the best information I have is that they’re an almost unequivocal good.

 The wood stove? I’ve just found out that I may be unwittingly poisoning my neighbors.

 The general consensus is wood burning = green. But this may be too much of a downside.

--Julian

It Always Rains On Sunday

- NC Tate

City Life

"City" and "Civilization" have the same etymological root. 

Last week, because I live close to a great metropolis and frequently pass through it, I was able to hear John Adams's Dr. Atomic Symphony performed, to hear Gary Snyder and Shuntaro Tanikawa read and talk, to pick up (and read), on a whim, a short book by Samuel Beckett, to engage in lively conversation over ramen and beer in a back-street dive with a street musician who looked like an early Rolling Stone a bit the worse for wear and an older man, impeccably turned out, who he called "Sensei."  Another week might also have included an exquisite meal at a French, Indian, Thai, or Japanese restaurant, and would certainly feature social encounters, unpredictable and exciting, of the kind that only great cities can offer.

I am always amazed to hear people deplore urbanization and talk about how much they hate cities.

Different strokes, I guess.

—David

Any Excuse to Post Some Ry Cooder

(Not to forget Flaco.)

 

--David

Song of summer

Cicadas

Deafening under the oldest trees

Accompany summer

 

I grew up in Britain where heat and humidity were not unknown, but not until a visit to Greece did I encounter cicadas. Now, here in Japan, the sound of these insects has become an ecstatic part of the hottest weeks of the year.

 (Photo: Bruce Marlin, Wikimedia Commons)

Hearing cicadas

My being vibrates to

The sound of the summer heat

 

There are several species, but here in lowland Kanto, my untrained ear can distinguish three.

 Hiss of abura-zemi (the rhythm section);

Buzz of min-min-zemi (the melody);

And gradually taking over from those, the trill of higarashi announcing the cool of late afternoon.

 

As the last light leaves the sky, the cicadas fall silent. And the gentler tones of the crickets, drowned out during the day, come to the foreground in the still of the evening. 

--Julian

Pleasures of summer: late afternoon storm

Somewhere around the middle of the hot afternoon, we hear the first rumbles, distant and intermittent. Over the next hour, the blue sky fills with clouds until they cover everything and turn a pale gray. The rumbling is louder now. The tension builds until suddenly the first rain falls in large drops. The downpour releases the smell of earth and warm stone. Thunder crashes overhead.

In fifteen minutes it’s over. The sky clears; blue streaked with clouds that grow pink with the approaching sunset. Leaves glisten. Puddles evaporate. The thunder recedes into the distance.

 The thermometer has dropped several degrees.    

--Julian

Pleasures of summer: matsuri (festival)

The anticipation (in the white paper tied to the rope lining the roadsides; in the muffled drumming echoing in the hot evenings prior to the event) of the sweat and effort of the men and women carrying our local portable shrine to the beach and back

The annual Chigasaki Hamaorisai Summer Festival takes place this coming Sunday night and Monday morning. Teams carry heavy portable shrines through the night along roads marked with rope and sacred paper to the beach. They arrive one after the other in raucous fashion, and are paraded and taken into the sea after sun up.

 And then borne back to their home shrines in the heat of the day. With frequent stops for sake and refreshment. I’ll join my neighbors at the stop here at the end of our road to encourage the bearers by sharing a drink with them.

 --Julian

Simple pleasures of summer: tatami nap

Lay down on the tatami mats in the heat of the day by the open window.

 
 The sky outside is cobalt blue. Shadows of leaves dance on the mosquito screen. The electric fan purrs.

 In the distance, the whine of a mower: someone is working hard in the hot sun, cutting the vegetation around a rice paddy or the summer weeds growing relentlessly in a backyard. The droning

                                                     lulls you

                                                                                                 to sleep.

 
Weeds of summer

--Julian

Simple pleasures of summer: geta

A handsome pair of geta clogs on the back step

Stepping outside, you slip in your bare feet. The strap, loosened from wear, slides snugly between your big and first toes. To walk is to make a satisfying, distinctive clap/clop as the wooden underpieces scrape the ground. The sound is sharp but oddly soothing.

Step out of the kitchen and slip on the geta to get to the outside storehouse. Or savor them at leisure as you karrang-karrong down the road in the cool darkness toward the paddy fields, on an evening constitutional last thing before bed.

--Julian

On cycling home from a musical entertainment

Crescent moon

Street lamp lit cherry flowers

Song on the brain

Smile on my face

 

--Julian