In my garden in the midst of three months of unbearable heat, I sit in the shade of the wisteria and watch honeybees gather on dozens of sunflower blossoms.
One tries to enjoy the moment, but finds the temptation to write a haiku overwhelming.
And eventually foolish.
.
Shadow and light
A sunflower and a bee
The breeze makes them dance
.
Dozens of blossoms
a September gathering
Sunflowers and bees
.
Bumblebees survive
six weeks of golden Summer
better be busy
.
Honeybees cluster all winter
shivering to generate heat
eating stored honey.
.
One learns Nature is not perfect, but it tries and so do I.
The beauty of the haiku lies in the ambiguity of the movement. The woman making chimaki must do two things with one hand. How does she hold the bamboo leaves, wrap them around the mochi, tie the string, and remove the strand of hair that has fallen in front of her eyes?
粽ゆうchimaki yū — wrapping the bamboo around glutinous rice, holding it tightly with your fingers, while using the other hand, tying it with string.
Basho’s disciple, Bashō no yōna, is going to Tokyo in November, hoping there to find such a woman tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she prepares chimaki. Chimaki (粽), the disciple is told is a leaf-wrapped rice dumpling. Picture Cynthia Erivo playing Elphaba in Wicked with long green fingers, tied with bamboo strings.
Where to Wander
Where shall I wander to find chimaki?
Yanaka perhaps with its old residential streets and more traditional atmosphere. Head north of the city center, passsing through Ueno Park. Recommended is Hachidaime Denzaemon Meshiya, a small, traditional teishoku restaurant serving ordinary Japanese set meals.
Asakusa also. Head east of Yanaka, two to three miles towards Sumida River. Mizuguchi is an old-fashioned shokudō—the sort of place with uncomplicated Japanese dishes.
What do I Look For
食堂 — shokudō, meaning “diner,” look for a sliding door, a noren, a short curtain, with Japanese characters in the panels – 食堂 plus two others. Watch the Netflix series Midnight Diner, and you’ll get a feel for a shokudō run by a Master.
Better not to look, just wander, and stumble across someplace out of the ordinary.
Only yesterday. Matsuo Basho did not do much thinking back. I wonder why.
a ’57 Chevy purple and tan, I wish it were red. a summer’s day
School’s out, the sun is hot, counting cows, license plates from other states, a book served as the internet.
A loaf of bread, bologna, cheese, mustard and a pickle Mom made lunch for us,
Ah, the Good old days, hearty laughter, wind and dust, as I remember it.
[A rough draft, but you know how these things are. The road stretches out, it keeps calling. When will we ever go back. ‘Tis true tis sad. How Dao. Tis true.]
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