The Dewdrop World

the autumn moon お月様の仁徳

 

名月を取ってくれろと泣く子かな　一茶
Grab it, cried the child, pointing up at the full moon- Issa

On Friday night, a substantial portion of the world's population will in waves collectively turn their eyes up toward the moon.

Yes, the Mid-Autumn Festival 中秋節 is upon us again.

The appreciation of the mid-autumn moon is a custom dating back at least to Han dynasty China-- probably even earlier. Indeed, for at least 2000 years now, it has been the full moon of the Eighth Month (approximately present-day September) which has been considered the most beautiful moon of the year.

In Japan, the custom of moon-viewing was adopted from China during the early Heian times and fantastic moon-viewing parties were a celebrated part of court life from these early times, where aristocrats would drink plenty of rice wine-- and floating lazily on their dragon boats, would drift around man-made ponds gazing at the moon (some perhaps composing poetry and snacking on mooncakes).

K-sensei-- who also loves this time of year-- sent me an essay he had written the other day for a local newspaper in which he writes,

秋の長夜、お月さまを仰ぐたび、日本人に生まれてよかったと思う。稲田をわたる秋風を淋しくて、どうにも身にしみるが、コオロギが競って鳴くころのお月さまなんとも味わいがある。
"On long autumn nights, gazing up in awe at the moon, I feel glad to have been born Japanese. On those nights, as the sad, lonely autumn wind blows across the rice fields and the sound of the singing crickets seems to penetrate me, I feel something deeply meaningful as I look at the moon."

He tells me that many Japanese people feel something along the lines of aesthetic and spiritual awe when they gaze at the moon. K-sensei, in the grand tradition of nihonjin-ron, then goes on to compare the Japanese experience of moon-viewing with that of the West. 

In the West, he explains, the full moon has long been associated with insomnia and insanity. The night of the full moon was a night to ward oneself against evil or lunacy. We see this aspect of the Western tradition perhaps in our word "lunatic," which, of course, comes from "luna." Indeed, the full moon has long been associated we are told with everything from vampires to excessive dog bites. (Cat Power and the Moon)

In contrast,

東洋人の心の中に月は、あくまでやさしさと純粋さを映し出すもの、人間の良心を引き出してくれるあいじょうのようなものを持つ。西瓜畑の泥棒がお月さんがじっと見ているので、恥入って西瓜を盗むことなく退散した話がある。
"The moon that lives in the hearts of those in the East, if anything, possesses a kindness and purity which has the ability of bringing out the best in humans. There is a story of a thief in a watermelon field. The moon shining down on the thief made him feel so ashamed about what he was about to commit that he left the field unable to touch even one watermelon."

The moon, then, is like a brilliant mirror reflecting back the purist and most beautiful parts of our hearts. It is another instance of the Japanese belief in the power of beauty.

Finally, K-sensei writes,

また中国では、お月さまを玉兎とも形容した。そこから、兎が住み餅をうくというコミカルな発想に結びつく。そうしたイマジュネーションは、東洋人のつきに対する思いの表れであり私たちの心をどんな平和にしてくれることか。
"The Chinese believe that a jade hare  (玉兎) is pounding mochi rice cakes (In China, medicine to help the sick) up on the moon. This comical story of a rabbit pounding rice cakes has long been associated with moon viewing, and this type of imaginative story-telling about the moon is an expression of the way in which the moon lives in the hearts of the people of the East. Images such as this, unfold within our hearts a feeling of peacefulness and happiness." 

**

One of my favorite anecdotes about the moon is one everyone has probably heard before --- when the great Natsume Soseki, who was still in English teacher at the time, was advising one of his pupils on the translation of "I love you" firmly declared that, "I love you" should be translated into Japanese not as 我君ヲ愛ス but as, "Isn't the moon beautiful?"  「月が綺麗ですね」といいなさい。Yes...

illustration from here 

(This is an old post from Tang Dynasty Times--- friends sent wonderful poems and comments when I first posted it there--how time flies!)

haiku-ing: mushrooms in the dew

where did they come from?

mushrooms scattered in the grass

White dew descends

 

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It's almost like clockwork, especially in misty Westlake Village, but even here in sunny Pasadena, at this time of year, the dew point is reached and suddenly there are glistening dewdrops --like diamonds in the wet grass. Especially in the early mornings. But even as late as 10, you seem them.... 

And with the dewdrops, comes an explosion of mushrooms. You can almost here them popping up in the grass all over

Pop pop pop pop!!

It is so hard to capture the dewdrops on "film."

Liza Dalby explains it like this:

"Shiratsuyu" has been a poetic term in Japan ever since the first poetry was written down. Shining like little jewels, "white dew" on the autumn grass is the image par excellence of transient beauty. The "white" does not mean the dew is turning into frost. Early in the morning or after the rain, if you look at leaves with lightly fuzzed surfaces, or with upturned edges, the water vapor balls up into large dewdrops. Reflecting the sunlight, they appear white rather than simply transparent." This happens beautiful in Westlake where everything is very misty.

 

 

haiku-ing: a staring contest

 

Puppy and a Squirrel 

Locked in a staring contest

Time stops, no one moves

Haiku-ing: Tally-Ho!

Whoosh! A dove take flight

Feeding beneath the finch feeder

When a puppy charges--tallyho!

 

haiku-ing: A Little Round Dove

 

First breeze of autumn

 Little round dove, unwinding

In a warm bird bath

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Stuffed to the gills

From feeding at the finch feeder

Why not take a load off?

Your little round body

Sitting in a warm bird bath

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Are your feet cold?

--Ah, the promise of autumn--

In the sound of the wind.

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Blazing hot sunshine

Little round dove in our bird bath

Listening to the wind

 

 

--Out my kitchen window (August 18)

After Issa

秋の風
鳩心に
秋思ふやう

The autumn wind---

A little round dove thinking

Of the season ahead

 

** Note One: Translating the Chieko Poems, I struggled with the way the poet describes glimpsing his beloved Chieko in the bath:

あなたの冷たい手足 あなたの重たく　まろいからだ

I was never happy with "Your heavy, round body..." in English, especially as Chieko was thin as a rail. But seeing the little dove in the bird bath, I suddenly remembered how Kotaro felt seeing Chieko... that little round body in the bath!

Note Two: 

On a tour of underground Orvieto, walking around the caves dug beneath the town- thousands of caves dug in the soft rock, our guide referred to the pigeon cotes as "the dove courts." I loved that. And realized that maybe in Italian--like the Japanese-- the word for pigeons and the word for doves is the same?

"Suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a pigeon…”

It just doesn’t sound right, does it?

But the Greek word used here is peristera, and while your Biblical dictionaries and lexicons will emphasize dove, they concede that it can also mean pigeon (as in Luke 2:24).

 

The View Out My Kitchen Window (More Dahlias This Week)

It Goes Without Saying

It's true, as my Field Guide to Dumb Birds of North America points out, that if you choose to put a feeder in your backyard, you are probably going to attract a bunch of birds!

He goes on:

"That may seem like a good idea in the moment, but believe me, once the lazy bastards figure out that there's a free meal to be had, they will just keep showing up hungry and expecting a handout.."

That about sums it up! 

At our place, all the action is out my kitchen window--where the flying piggies (I mean, the finches) are nonstop.... it's like the mob you see on Youtube when Walmart opens the door for their black Friday sale. 

In the back, however, things are a bit more dignified... kind of like the line in front of In'Out Burger, in Pasadena.... never ending, but dignified. 

I don't know if that's because sparrows are simply more refined or if it's the puppy, who likes to charge them. He is usually going for squirrels back there but sometimes for no reason whatsoever, he likes to charge the doves. 

I think he likes the whooshing sound they make when they take off..?

Oh, to be cute, like Shumi. 

My bird guide doesn't have a lot to say about doves... 

In terms of main bird shapes, the author breaks things down like this:

Does it have a small body with long stupid legs, or is it dumpy with a fat head?

I would say the doves are of the latter category.

I am just so curious to see what happens when it gets colder? 

My Field guide says nothing will change, as long as there's free food...

hmmmm...

 

these are the days

I heard from Ruffles.

"These are the days," she said.

And she reminded me not to forget that this is a time of corn festivals, the time of 

the Loaf, the bright leaf

Bright flower & fruit time known as FIRST HARVEST...

A really bountiful time.

Threshold dates of its beginning: AUGUST 1 -7th.

In the Celtic tradition, a time of making a keep sake promise for  ‘A year & a day.’  

I do think of it as a threshold time--like a bridge between summer and autumn. A time to turn toward harvests and the moon. 

She also sent photos from her magical garden

Dittany of Crete

--Greek Oregano, A Romaine lettuce bundle gone to puffs, Yerba Buena , Spearmint Flowering to puffs--   

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I love to imagine Ruffles in her garden.

A few days ago, she texted this:

Wonderful to think isn’t it About Virgil, the poet/writer of Epics~~Aenead That people of more ancient times read his GEORGICS, the praise & love & care of the land, of earth & tending farm.... CRAZY, but  I felt that about ALL the many families that I visited when in Montana ~~ Haying season, after all. I woke up one morning at 4 am to wind & light rain really making the branches of a pine tree dance  outside my window ... & a long summer day ahead! I had to laugh, because I was thinking about Virgil! I think there must be a ‘convening’ of energies From times present & past ...about love of land, those energies gather when you are in nature.... so many songs, paintings, writings,  journals kept , gardens of all sizes tended, conservancies . Just now The bird songs are so crisp & fresh in the pepper tree.

++

We are heading up to Montana ourselves. Actually Wyoming. Utah and and Idaho. Yosemite.

I just finished Terry Tempest Williams, The Hour of Land: A Personal Topography of America's National Parks.

Like her friend, the poet Jorie Graham, she is such a national treasure. Like Ruffles, she believes that this is the hour of the land. 

For Terry Tempest Williams the land--and the preservation of our parks-- is an ecology of humility --one that leads into an ecology of awe. We are not protecting grizzlies from extinction --it is the grizzlies that are protecting us from extinction of the experience of the world beyond ourselves. She says so beautifully that our stewardship is the privilege of our imagination.

Restoration as a homecoming (like Odysseus' second task, after he had finally come home) I agree with her it is a test of human imagination, like Richter's re-composition of Vivaldi's four seasons... re-imagining and a renewal.

Like Ruffles in her garden.

And she ends her book with a discussion of the words removed from the Oxford Junior dictionary... words like hazelnut and bramble; tulip and turnip..

Whaaaaat?

And in their place? Chatroom and celebrity; vandalism and voicemail...

These are the days. 

 

unagi

As Liza Dalby says, in Japan people eat certain foods on certain days.

I'm all for that!

But I missed the day for eating eel by a few weeks.  Actually, I have missed it by almost seven years.

As I think it's been that long since I had my favorite food in the world, cooked over charcoal, kabayaki style. 

I just had to rectify this, so I waited for the teenager to come and visit his poor old mother... I waited and waited--and finally yesterday he arrived and we immediately ordered eel from one of our favorite restaurants, Osawa, here in Pasadena. 

It was so delicious!!!!!

The boy asked if unagi really gives people power when it's hot. Or is that something they just do?

According to Wikipedia:

Kabayaki eel is very popular and a rich source of vitamins A and E, and omega-3 fatty acids.[3] A popular custom from the Edo period calls for eating kabayaki during the summer to gain stamina,  especially on a particular mid-summer day called doyō-no ushi-no-hi [ja] (土用の丑の日),[3][4] which can fall anywhere between July 18-August 8 each year.

So there you have it!

We were on a roll so the next day, we went to H Mart and got supplies to make Hawaiian poke and miso soup with Manila clams. 

Kazy made the miso soup (I gave instructions), and we put together a Poke bowl with fish from Vital Farms. I made Olivier Salad-- a labor of love, as it takes me forever to cut everything.

Was a great day! 

And next year, I want to eat eel a bit earlier in the season. 

 

time of gingko trees fruiting

It is thought that the twenty-four solar terms (節気) of the ancient Chinese calendar were codified as early as during the Warring States period (475–221 BC). Kind of amazing to realize that these terms have come down to modern times --through time and space (place)-- unchanged.  

Each of the solar terms lasts about 15 days. And for further precision, they are divided into 3 sections of about 5 days each.

These "micro-seasons" became known in Japan as the 72 kō (72候).

Originally the word “kō” in Japanese meant “to go out to meet someone,” and in time came to signify “looking forward to” or “expecting something.”

Perhaps this says something about the way the ancient Japanese saw the turning of the seasons-- as something to anticipate, like the cherry blossoms of spring!

But anyway, like the 24 sekki, the 72 kō also have their origin in classical poetry and are thought to express the finer nuances of the changing of the seasons captured in short, 5-day intervals.

But again, this was the seasons as expressed around the Yellow River in China. 

Unlike the 24 sekki, though, in time the Japanese developed their own terms which were more demonstrative of what was actually happening seasonally in Japan-- though this wouldn’t happen until 1685, over 800 years after the Taien-reki Tang Dynasty calendar was first introduced. 

It's interesting to take a look at what kinds of changes were made in "translated" Chinese seasons into Japanese ones.

The most striking feature one finds in the Chinese calendar is the dominant place the sighting of birds plays. Out of the 72 kō, 23 had bird-related names, making it the largest grouping of seasonal names in the Chinese calendar, pointing to the particularly special place birds had in the hearts of the ancient Chinese. Bird-related names was followed by 19 names related to the weather (such as the wind or thunderstorms), while plants, insects and animals were represented by 13, 9 and 6 names respectively. There were only two fish-related seasonal names in the Chinese calendar.

Not surprisingly, it is plants and flowers, rather than birds, which are most conspicuous in the later Japanese-adapted calendar, with 27 associated seasonal names. Still, birds far outnumber animals, insects and fish making it the third largest grouping.

In Tochigi, I always wanted to make my own seasonal calendar--my own 72 kō. 

In Westlake too. I even started one in Westlake revolving around the changes and moods of the lake. 

So, I was so delighted (and not at surprised) to find that Liza Dalby, in our memoir East Wind Melts Ice had done just that.  

In the back of the book, she has a chart--just like my Japanese almanacs have-- listing the 72 kō by:

"Ancient Chinese"  "17th Century Japan" and "Modern Japan" 

To this, she add a new one:

"Northern California" 

I love it!

For the time of Cold Cicada Chirps (which appears a week earlier in the 17th century Japanese calendar), she lists the modern Japanese season as "Crepe Myrtle Blooms."

Right now in Pasadena, the crepe myrtle is blooming like crazy--deep pinks and magentas! It makes me so happy to feel the overlap. 

According to Dalby, in Berkeley it is the time of "Crickets Crying."

Tentatively, if I was going to designate this time in Pasadena, I would probably go with the crepe myrtle blooming. Except that the gingko trees are fruiting! I have never seen this before. Turning a deep green, the leaves are glowing in the mid-summer sun. But now they are fruiting? My sister didn't think people were planting the females anymore because of the stench--like a durian?-- so she suspects the tree in question changed sex. 

Michael asked me if I am going to collect the nuts--a great delicacy in Japan (one of my favorite foods that I have made here in Pasadena is chawan mushi). 

Michael is a great forger and collector. I guess I am too timid for that (afraid of pesticides). But I am watching those babies grow really heavy! I've never seen fruit this big actually... even in Japan. 

If it happens again next year, I think I will designate this the time of gingko fruiting. Leaves light up like sycamores in the sun.

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Laura sends this for citizens scientists to help count the leaves!

NYTimes:The Female Ginkgo Tree’s Acrid Smell of Success