His sins they were forgiven him; or why do flowers runThe flowers are irises, blooming in every garden throughout the neighbourhood in impeccable Japanese fashion, and possessing for once a distinct perfume. (The Japanese iris festival is traditionally on the fifth day of the fifth month by the old calendar, so *not* May 5: much more like June 7.)
Behind him; and the hedges all strengthening in the sun?
Days like today remind me of bright late summer afternoons in the house I grew up in-- sun through the wind-blown branches making flickering patterns on the blue carpets. They recall, just, an afternoon walking the back streets of Waseda, brown wooden houses surrounded by rare tall trees, or a Saturday afternoon walking the perimeter of the imperial palace before ending up in... Kojimachi? Akasaka?; or the end of Nerima-ku where friends lived that I crashed with from time to time, most illegally: odd corners of Tokyo seen in my first year there.
Days like today make me think the Buddhists are right: now is the perfect moment.
(This all blew in yesterday evening in an even more marvellous fashion, which now I can't quite recall: glowing grey&white cold-front clouds, rents of blue sky, western sun shafts through the gleaming green world. Hasui may have a picture of it somewhere, but it's not really something that a moist country like Japan does often.)
