ayamegusa

purple iris

Basho’s Diary,
Sendai,
May 4th to 8th,
16th year of Genroku

Crossing the Natori River, we entered Sendai on the day when the irises were in full bloom. We found a place to stay and stayed four or five days. An artist by the name of Kaemon lived here. A man of some ability with whom I became acquainted. We toured together for a day. The clover in Miyagino was lush, the air was misty. Tamada, Yokono, and Tsujigaoka were white with rhododendrons. We entered a grove of pine trees called “under the tree.” It was because the dew was so thick in the past that it was called “Misaburahimikasa.” This meant to say, “Servants, present your master a hat.” The dew underneath the tree is wetter than the rain. Before the day ended, we visited the Yakushido and Tenjin shrines.

In parting, he gave me two paintings of Matsushima and Shiogama and a pair of straw sandals woven with Iris grass. How a man of refined taste is thoughtful.

Iris grass —
tied to the feet
the straps of straw sandals.

Iris —
Blossoming
On my feet?

あやめ艸足に結ん草鞋の緒
ayamegusa ashi ni musuban waraji no o

ayamegusa (あやめ艸), a combination of ayame, meaning iris, and gusa (Chinese, cao) meaning grass. In a medical and spiritual context, a medicinal herb with a fragrant smelling root that is said to ward off evil spirits. A way of saying “bon voyage.”

Sendai, a seaport on Japan’s eastern coast. At this point Basho headed into the interior crossing over to the west coast, a little less than half way through his journey on what would become Oku no Hosomichi.

Matsushima and Shiogama, two places on the coast that Basho visited. Matsushima is known for its pines. Matsuo Basho would surely have seen the connection with his own name, Matsuo.

Miyagino is the name of a god, but apparently also a suburb of Sendai.

As a travel guide, Basho gives us very little to no information about the two Buddhist shrines he visited.

Several English translations Basho’s journey exist. Here is one.

Let it Rain

a rainy evening

Let it rain all day, just not today.

A drizzle, a sprinkle, a mist, a shower, April showers that bring May flowers, a steady shower, a downpour and a deluge like the one that Noah had, a thunderstorm, a thunder clapper, cats and dogs, into each life some rain must fall. Rain, rain, go away, come some other day, and when it comes let’s all hope for a passing rain…

A word, a name, the Way, the Dao

The Dao teaches us that things can have many names, that names change. So many names, so many words for many things. In a word, it seems much the same. And yet, one suspects, there is a difference.

“What’s in a name?” Shakespeare famously wrote. Shakespeare put this question in the mouth of Juliet, who observed that a rose, by any other name, would smell as sweet. Of course, Juliet’s discourse was about the fact that for Romeo and Juliet, one a Montague, the other a Capulet, by birth, sworn enemies.

“Water of the Sky” a book by Miya Ando compiles 2,000 Japanese words for rain along with their English interpretations. To do so, she resorts to that which precedes rain, or what accompanies rain, its quantity, its sound, what is and what isn’t rain, of rain and man.

How charming, how thoughtful, what a good book to buy.

Given this, I wondered what Matsuo Basho thought of rain. As with Miya Ando, Basho heard the rain dripping through his roof, he was soaked by rain, and saw how rain froze on monkeys, how rain came in drizzles and downpours, and what it did to his beloved Banana (Basho) tree outside his front door. And with the help of ChatGPT I came up with this list:

Note. the word order is sometimes changed.

初雪 (hatsuyuki)

初雪や / 水仙の葉の / たわむまで
Hatsuyuki ya/ suisen no ha no/ tawamu made

First snow,
piling on the daffodil,
until it bends

— Hatsuyuki, literally, first snow, last snow, which is which? Is it the end of winter yet? It seems strange to start with this, but every gardener knows snow sometimes doesn’t know it is Spring.

雨 (ame)

雨の日や / 世間の人の / 見えぬ哉
ame no hi ya / seken no aki o / sakai-chō

A rainy day —
the people of the world
are nowhere to be seen.

– Ame, a good plain rain, when no seasonal nuance is needed.

春雨 (harusame)

春雨や / 蓬を延ばす / 草の道
harusame ya / yomogi o nobasu kusa

Spring rain—
lets the mugwort grow
along the grassy path.

– Harusame, Spring rain, ah, soft, gentle rain that nourishes all life. And why the mugwort? Like parsley and cilantro, it has a medicinal quality, it is a non-alcoholic digestif. Basho welcomed it as he was plagued with stomach issues later in life.

五月の雨岩檜葉の緑いつまでぞ

五月雨 (samidare)

五月雨を / 集めて早し / 最上川
Samidarewo/ atsumete hayashi/ mogamigawa

This summer rain,
it gathers, rushing quickly,
— the Mogami River.

– Samidare, literally, the rain in the fifth month (May). When it rains, it leads to floods and rising rivers and an exciting ride down the Mogami. Compare the slightly different 五月の雨, gogatsu, no ame, literally, the rain in the fifth month (May). In poetic readings, the phrase is transformed into satsuki no ame.

五月の雨
岩檜葉の緑
いつまでぞ
Satsuki no ame / iwahiba no midori / itsumade zo

The rain in May,
splashes on the rocks keeping the cypress green.
— how long will it last?

This unsatisfactory translation refers to the majestic cypress trees that grow dense and think in Japanese forests. Iwahiba 岩檜葉, the cypress tree. The “how long will it last” is an allusion to the fact the wood of the cypress is used in Japanese temples.

時雨 (shigure)

初時雨 / 猿も小蓑を / ほしげ也
Hatsu Shigure / Saru Mo Ko Mino O / Ho Shige yě

A late autumn rain,
Oh, a monkey needs and want
A warm winter coat

– Shigure, it has come to mean a cold, intermittent rain in late autumn or early winter. One that catches that poor monkey unprepared and needing a winter coat.

夕立 (yūdachi)

夕立や / 草葉をつかむ / むら雀
Yūdachi ya/ Kusaba o tsukamu/ mura suzume

grasping blades of grass,
in a sudden summer shower
— a quarrel of sparrows

– Yudachi, hurry home, don’t be caught in a sudden evening downpour

霧雨 (kirisame)

霧雨や / 日暮れに残る / 海の色
Kirisame ya/ higure ni nokoru/ umi no iro

Amidst the mist,
the color of the sea, at dusk
still remains.

– Kirisame, literally, a misty rain, or the mist itself, not a heavy or steady rain, but just a very little, letting the sunlight color the sea and sky.

村雨 (murasame)

村雨や / 釣瓶落としの / 水の音
Murasame ya/ tsurube otoshi no/ mizu no ote

Sudden squall, ouch —
water pounding
dropping in a copper bucket.

– Murasame, literally, a village rain. Over time it has come to mean sudden squall. Basho is at home, and has to contend with a leaky roof. 水の音, mizu no ote will make another appearance in Basho’s well-known frog in the old pond haiku.

雪 (yuki)

雪と雪 / 今宵師走の / 名月哉
Yuki to yuki/ koyoi shiwasu no/ meigetsu kana

Snow, let it snow,
all evening long in December
— what a beautiful moon!

— Yuki, yuki, Let it snow, let it snow, but let the moon shine through.

深雪 (miyuki)

深雪や / 庵の柱の / きしむ音
Miyuki ya/ an no hashira no/ kishimu oto

The snow is so deep
it buries my humble hut
beneath its creaking noise.

— Miyuki, Deep frigid snow, the kind to bring the world to a stop.

Eaglets

March 2026

Longboat Key, Sarasota

Days before the eaglets take flight, perched on a branch, taking it all in. The Branching phase last 9 to 10 weeks. After taking flight, the eaglets will be gone by May.

Eaglets,

waiting their turn

— beware, it’s a wild world

Eaglets on a branch overlooking Sarasota Bay

First Snow

crocus in the snow

Winter’s not over. Not yet. But somewhere the crocus are blooming and the snow has gathered on the leaves of the daffodil and the narcissus, bending them down. Someone once told me that is how one knows Spring is soon coming.

初雪や
水仙の葉のたわ
むまで
Hatsuyuki ya
suisen no ha no tawa
mu made

First snow, last snow, let me know — with AI, is anybody thinking for one’s self? My English rendering of Matsuo Basho’s haiku that keeps the figurative meaning if not literally so.

first snow, new year—
just enough so its bending
the daffodil leaves

— Matsuo Basho, 1686

Yes,, it is true that in Japanese, the word 水仙 (すいせん, suisen) can mean both daffodil and narcissus. I confess, I too am not sure of the difference and whether it matters.

crocus in the snow

初雪や / 水仙の葉のたわ / むまで

Eagle

Early March 2026

Longboat Key, Sarasota

An eagle nest

high in a tree

on the lee side of the island

overlooking Sarasota Bay.

Two eaglets,

nearly grown,

almost ready to fly.

An Audubon lady

watches the chicks,

camera clicking away.

The parents are off feeding.

Soon one eagle returns

to keep watch.

Soon the day will come

when they teach them

to fish.

Such good parents.

.

Eagle —

keep watching.

Your chicks have not flown.

.

An eagle

keeps a sharp eye out,

wary of the world.

.

How is it

that birds get along

and we can’t?

.

Note

The birds I saw are Bald Eagle chicks. Along the bay they usually fledge (take their first flight) around March or early April, so my timing is spot on. After they fly, the parents still bring them fish for a few weeks while they learn to fish for themselves.

Then they are off on their own.

Sea Shells

March 2026

Longboat Key, Sarasota

Mostly six syllable haiku.

A morning walk along the beach on Longboat Key in Sarasota, Florida, a gentle breeze, what it means to be all alone in a city 56,000 people.

Through the portal,

On the Beach

— Nevil Shute

Alice’s Looking Glass

“If I had a world

of my own,

everything

would be nonsense.

Nothing would be

what it is,

because everything

would be what it isn’t.

And contrary wise,

what is,

it wouldn’t be.

And what it wouldn’t be,

it would.

You see?”

Pretty shells.

The shore.

For free

.

If the ocean and the shore had a political theory, would it be Dao Dejing?

More political theory:

Gather, collect, conform.

We are prisoners, confined to the structures we create. Michel Foucault

Broken shelves,

Broken hearts,

Broken dreams.

.

What is a rebel, but a man who says no-Albert Camu. We shall return to this thought

All politics is local, says tip O’Neill. Federalism takes into account, the large in the small, the rural in the urban. This helps to avoid the tyranny of the majority.

The waves,

The foam,

Repeat.

.

In terms of texture, clam shells come in three varieties: spiky, ribbed, and smooth The color is very from white to black my favorite is the silvery iridescent shell that looks like pearl. Because these are so fragile, they are all almost always broken. Does part of their beauty lie in the fact that they uncommon? 

The birds,

Flapping,

Their wings

.

Seagulls,

Sandpiper,

And fools

.

How to describe a sand pepper:

Long beaks,

Long legs,

Small heads

.

Blue ocean,

so vast,

No wind

.

 me,

On the beach,

Alone 

Back through the portal.

“What is a rebel? A man who says no.” Camus

Or a man on the beach with no shoes 

A pond

Ask Matsuo Basho how a pond becomes a poem, he’ll respond:

How can a pond become a poem, because it’s muddy because it’s clear because it’s cold because it’s there because a frog decides to jump and make a splash.

Maybe, you had to be there. I acknowledge, it’s not much, — but still, that’s how a pond becomes a poem.

I’ll close with this, it’s February. There are no frogs.

In February

A frozen pond doesn’t speak,

It groans, so to speak