It seems that all I ever have time for these days is a quick haiku. Here’s one from yesterday, when four eagles pulled me out of the fatigue and cold I was experiencing at the end of a tiring day:
waiting for the bus
cold stone step is a hard bench
above, eagles soar
I snapped a quick photo as the bus pulled up, but all I managed to get was blue sky (which was, itself, amazing) and one blurry eagle:
Meanwhile, unpacking and setting up my office/studio space continues:
Exciting to wake up to sunshine instead of rain again this morning (that’s two days in a row here on the wet coast!). The view from my kitchen window inspired a quick haiku:
mist weaves through tree trunks
as houses warm this morning
sunlight holds last leaves
And another image from this morning:
I have yet to see a coyote since we moved beside the ravine, but I’m keeping my eyes open (especially late at night when I let the dog out to pee before bed — and hoping the dog won’t give chase if we spy one).
As for writing, I’m actually back working on my neglected novel (yeah! I was getting a bit worried I’d forgotten how to write), but progress on unpacking boxes and setting up my office seems to have stalled.
waves of home-bound crows
crest over tops of fir trees
struggling in the wind
The sky is still orange as I type this, so these may be the most immediate images I’ve ever posted! I was concerned that my sunset view might not be as good at my new place as it was at my old. I needn’t have worried. (By the way, it was the crows that were struggling in the wind, not the trees.)
In the spring (just short of our first anniversary in our new place) our landlord dropped the bombshell that he was putting our house up for sale. After the initial shock and depression (we liked where we lived and were not looking forward to having to move for a third time in one year), we began to get excited about the possibility of actually being able to buy a house of our own (thanks to low interest rates) and finally break free of the whims of landlords. It turns out that looking for a house is all consuming (hence the neglect of this blog –and my other writing). We looked seriously at over thirty houses, put unsuccessful offers on five, and just when we were losing optomism… we found the perfect house. At first we thought it was more than we could afford, and with so much competition for houses in our neighbourhood and so many unsuccessful tries at other houses, we didn’t think it would be possible for us to get the house we liked more than all the others. But somehow circumstances, the planets, karma…everything aligned, and here we are in our wonderful new house!
We’re in the middle of the city, but here is the view from my bedroom window:
Perhaps other buyers were scared off by the closeness of the neighbouring ravine (our old landlord said we’d made a mistake buying a house so close to a “jungle”). Of course, we love it!
Here is the my first haiku written at the new house:
yellow autumn leaves
light a glowing pathway
through rain darkened trees
This morning I listened to an interview with author/illustrator Lee Edward Fodi in which he mentioned that his interest in writing and illustrating books goes back to when he first picked up a crayon. He also said that, for him, the visual images always came first. I was thinking that, although I loved to draw as a kid, the written story always came before the visual image for me. Then I remembered the pictures I drew for my grandma.
For most of my childhood, my grandma lived several hundred miles away, and I only saw her a couple times a year. We used to write letters back and forth, and for a brief period, we also did something special. I would send my grandma a drawing, and she would send me back a story to go with the drawing. The story she created from the picture would be a total surprise, and I always waited for it with great anticipation. (I still have at least two of those drawings and their accompanying stories –perhaps I’ll post one here when I find it.)
My grandma always encouraged my interest in being a writer, but I’d forgotten how much she modelled storytelling herself and inspired creativity by her approach to life and the things she had around her. There was always a mood of fun around my grandmother. She had a big encompassing laugh, sang lively French songs, made paper dolls with us, played cards, and always had a lazy-Susan tray of Bugles, Cheezies, chips and dip at the ready. She loved Hawaii, dressed in a bright floral muu muu at home, played Hawaiian music on her stereo, called her grandchildren by Hawaiianified names, and always had little shells and tiny toys hidden in her flower pots. And, there was the story-telling shell.
My brothers, sister and I loved to curl up next to my grandma while she held the storytelling shell on her lap (like a mother-of-pearl bowl), traced lines and patterns with her finger, and told stories about children who sailed the sea and had encounters with pirates. It wasn’t so much the content of the stories that made the stories great, it was the personality, warmth and love with which my grandma told them.
So, some stories begin with pictures, some with words, and if your’e lucky, some begin with a storytelling shell.
hundreds flew over
when my father was a boy
twelve nighthawks tonight
We’ve been experiencing a heat wave here in Vancouver, which has left everyone in my house (people, dog and cats) lying around sweating (or panting), unable to move or think. Today, the temperature has dropped just enough to give us a bit of a reprieve and allow me to stay for more than a few minutes in my sauna of an office as well as muster up enough energy to record some of the haiku that emerged out of the heat.
First, here’s one I wrote back in early June:
early summer heat
unwelcome guest in our house
the dog pants all night
And during this week’s heat:
so many windows
open in the summer heat
spilling people’s lives
empty yellow grass
splashed by blue-winged Steller’s jay
beak full of peanut
heavy summer heat
no breeze through open windows
the night train’s whistle
fat slice of orange moon
behind smog and forest fire smoke
terrible beauty
And here’s the surrealistically orange sunset from the night the heat wave started:
I seem to be devoting more time to tweeting than to blogging lately. Perhaps because it’s so quick and easy to tweet, and so far (still novel) I’m finding it fun and challenging to put as much as possible in as few words as possible (kind of like haiku). In fact, one of the appeals of Twitter is that tweets are the perfect size for haiku, as many haiku addicts have discovered. Hashtags like #haiku and #haikuchallenge also enable people to share haiku and challenge eachother to create haiku on specific topics (somewhat kindred to the original Japanese tradition of haiku as socially created linked verse). Here are some Twitter haiku samples:
Note: reading from the bottom up, the first challenge was to write a haiku using the words 1. crow 2. hole 3. roof, while the second challenge was to use the word “wolfish.” Fun, I thought (the Internet once again distracting me from work on my novel). Btw, my Twitter moniker: Jacquieink
air conditioning
chills me until I step out
into a warm hug
(it’s like summer today!)
At my last book club meeting the conversation went from discussing A Year in Provence to sharing humorous travel stories (book club tangents are often more interesting than the actual book discussions). After hearing about several hilarious mishaps, inadvertent cultural faux pas, and near-disasters (most, funny only from the safety of hindsight and home), it occurred to me that problem-free trips do not make for very interesting travel anecdotes.
Both my trips to Japan were so well choreographed and shepherded by friends, that there was little opportunity for me to get lost, botch anything up, or encounter any risks or pitfalls. The funniest things to happen on my latest trip was having to ask a male friend to help me decipher the Japanese on feminine hygiene products (he was unable to offer any enlightenment as to the reason for the pictures of rabbits and flying pigs). The only other funny thing was, apparently, my pronunciation of Japanese words, which baffled some people and highly entertained others. Also, running out of money 2/3 the way through the trip did lead to some unexpected challenges and suspense.
So, if no problems means no stories, than I’m relieved to say I have no real stories to tell about my trip. However, that doesn’t mean I have no stories to tell. They just wont be about me.
Some of my favourite places and things experienced on my recent trip:
- stopping to eat a box lunch overlooking the Oi River and the lush green mountainside of Arashiyama (storm mountain), Kyoto
- hearing uguisu, the Japanese nightingale, call in the bamboo forest beside an old inari shrine
- shopping for kimono fabric and antiques at Kitano Tenmangu market, Kyoto (and escaping from the rain in a tiny tofu hot pot restaurant)
- eating a delicious lunch of fresh vegetables, rice and grilled tofu braised with miso sauce (if you scoff at the idea of tofu tasting good, then you’ve never eaten in Japan!), followed by exploring a school for samurai, a castle, and a ninja house
- enjoying the view from Kiyumizu Temple in Kyoto and Roppongi Tower in Tokyo
- following the beckoning cats signs to Gotokuji temple, the home of the first maneki-neko (lucky cat)
- experiencing Kabuki
- soaking in a natural hotspring beside a river in Wakayama
- walking down ancient stones stairs to the base of Nachi Falls
- following a crow through the huge tori gate at Kumano Taisha, the shrine of the three-legged crow
- walking on the old Tokaido hwy through the historic town of Seki-cho and sitting in a 370 year old shop interviewing the 13th and 14th generation wagashi-makers (who may or may not be related to ninjas)
- meeting highschool and university students, and chatting with people at my talks
- basking in the hospitality and kindness of friends and acquaintances (old and new)
I came away with two notebooks full of notes and ideas, as well as over 2000 photos (mostly for research and to help jog my memory), so look for a future story — possibly involving a 17th century girl, a wagashi shop, ninjas, a fire, and a trip on the old Tokaido hwy.… (that is, after the maneki-neko story).
