Tuesday, May 18, 2010


WATERMIRRORS


These are the early days of rice growing season, when the leaves of the new rice are all but invisible upon those many facets of water that just a few days ago were filled only with mountains and sky. Heading down the road these dawns is like traveling through a whole mountainside of optical illusions, passing by mirrors of open water where the farmers have planted their family paddies with the barest of rice stalks that from a distance are invisible, those small leaves placed 30 cm or so apart; in the slanted light it is a visual treat to slowly roll toward the village on my motorcycle and at first, looking down from above each watermirror, see nothing but sky reflected-- then a vague geometric pattern begins to emerge as the light changes and the tiny rice plants become manifest - mere wisps of green, the lines and rows of them curving and turning to fit the shape of the respective paddy - then when I draw to the level of the water there is suddenly a soft green layer floating there at eye level, like a jade mist above a mirror, then I look below to the next paddy and again it is only water, upon which a geometric pattern of green slowly resolves and turns to mist as I descend...

In a paddy here and there along the way stalks a crow, egret or hawk, searching for frog, insect, little fish that live there-- they pause in their breakfast labors, lift their heads above the green to watch me as I pass, then get back to the big menu...


6 comments:

Chrissy said...

Your words definitely paint a nice picture...You've got a love for where u live.

R. Brady said...

Thank you, Chrissy... It keeps trying to catch my eye...

thesoybean said...

i love this time of year...and saw a crow having at a large frog over the weekend

thesoybean said...

not to mention the froggy chorus in bed at night...

R. Brady said...

I love that chorus-- such a wonderful way to fall asleep, wrapped in that gentle blanket of sound...

vegetablej said...

Catching up on a bit of back reading. This one takes me right back to a Shikoku country mountain with a dusty road descending through the middle of two rice fields, that I passed every day on my way to work. In the season that you describe I loved it when the paddies turned to lakes and everything, even the sky, was reflected. Suddenly the world became water.

I used to think of the rice sprigs as hair plugs. :)

And yes, you are lucky.