SCENES FROM A QUIET MORNING

In the mist, cherry blossoms
Deeper in the mist
cherry blossoms

What pleasure it is, what delicate pleasure, to stand out at dawn beneath the blooming cherries and see in the distance more and more blooming cherries, the mountain green also dotted here and there by a demure peach or brash apricot...

The quiet morning cherry-scented mountain air is worth more than all the assets in the world.
And out on the Lake the ayu boats trawl here and there, trailing golden shavings that curl and fade along the wakes in the slant of misted sunrise, the sharp-eyed fishermen seeking the fishes I hope manage to elude them.

Last night's frog chorale has drawn to a close, though the croaky choir is clearly here in force, unlike elsewhere in the world where experts say the hoppy songsters are disappearing; soon there may be more experts than frogs.

Apart from the alarming increase in experts, this change bodes ill for our species, for frogs live (as anyone knows who has conversed with frogs) at the frontier of existence. They are our environmental pioneers, as it were, and the responsibility weighs upon them deeply. Nevertheless, they go on singing. May we all take a lesson from our amphibian friends.