As we get deeper into autumn the twilight creeps up so quickly.  It seems as if the golden moments of the setting sun fade into night.  The moon was out early this evening high in the sky.  Seagulls waltzed under rippled skies.  The luna in all its majesty smiler a happy one as it too watched the aerial display.

Swooping down on its dinner the birds would skim the water.  Looking for that meal so that they could be satisfied.  All under the moons watchful eye.  The more terrestial rippled clouds gave way to a obsidian water.

They danced.  I watched.  The sun continued to set.

I came across this bordering adornment in Saitama the other day between two small apartment complexes.  The owner of one of the apartments had lined the property line with small 100 ml steel cans.  They must have been arranged there quite some time ago as most were in various stages of oxidization.  Additionally, weeds sprung out of the tops of a few of the cans.  It was quite a harmonious mixing of Japanese aesthetic of wabi sabi, reusing of discarded items, and the beauty of contemporary design.

This was the line that should not be crossed, even though it stood little more than a few inches tall.  The border was completely dwarfed by the surrounding multi-storied buildings.

The idea of what is a border began to spin around in my head.  Why do humans choose to mark boundaries?  On this side of the line is what is mine, and on the other is yours.  Will these borders last, or will they crumble into tiny pieces of oxidized dust?

This border will not last.  I wonder if the land owner will find is necessary  to replace these cans when they are no more?

Just some cans, rust and thought from across the border from Tokyo, into Saitama.

You have to let your nose be your guide, or at least that is what I did.  That sweet fragrance of the the unmistakable kinmokusie ( 金木犀) drifted into my nostrils right before lunch.  My stomach was rumbling wanting to be nourished, but the scent drew me in.

As usual I had no idea where the scent was coming from. I knew it had to be pretty close by.  I wandered around for a bit, and to my astonishment, there were three of the largest orange sweet osmanthus I had ever seen.  The tiny blossoms were bursting all over the trees.  The trees were peeking as I strolled under their branches.

I noticed the the earth had begun to be dotted by them.  Little orange specks were scattered around the roots of the trees.  These little orange drops of fragrant dew had done their mission for the year, and sat patiently on a bed of green ground coverings to seep back into the soil.

The dew has begun to fall, another sign of autumn, and another signal that the crisp air will gradually dip closer and closer to freezing.  For now, I am content just being able to witness such a seasonal sensory festival of aroma.

The morning dew hung with a brisk moving stillness.

Wind whipped around my head.

Trying to think of warmer days, summer days, or at least a warmer coat.

Stepping onto the warmer comfort of the bus, I made my way to the back seat.

So thankful for a warm seat, and a window with a view.

The clear rippled skies reflect on the liquid asphalt puddles.

Gazing into the sky, I think to myself, today is a good day.

The goldenrod nodded a greeting in the warm afternoon light.

Bursting with hue, in ways only a weeded flower could.

Today is going to be a good day, I know it to be true.

No matter what may come, the light will shine.

Rising above the nonsense.

Seeking my purpose.

Being in tune with the natural surroundings makes the coming of the seasons so pleasurable.  It is one thing that Japanese culture is in sync with, nature.  It may not seem it, but if you could ease drop in on a conversation in a tea house one of the appropriate subjects for this time of year would be the blooming of the  金木犀 キンモクセイ(kinmokusei), Orange Osmanthus, also known as fragrant orange.

This tree is not beautiful.  It looks the epitome of completely ordinary.  Through out the seasons it is just a tree, with branches, leaves and roots.  One would walk by it and not even give it a first thought.  It is a tree that is just there.

This is when the magic really happens.  For about a week to 10 days the minuscule blossoms of the fragrant orange osmanthus open and release their scent into the world.  I always smell the fragrance before my eye spots the tree.  The sweet orange scent with hints of cooking butter waif through the breeze.  I like to search for the tree once the aroma hits my brain.  I love to let it fill my nostrils in the cool dry air of autumn.

This little unassuming tree becomes extraordinary, if for only a few days.  It is well worth the effort to track them drown and let your mind drift on the buttered orange waves of autumn.

Friday afternoon at 2 p.m. there was a rather large and close earthquake in Chiba Prefecture.  It was large enough that I considered abandoning the building, but the earth began to settle back down again.  I will never say that I am used to the earth suddenly getting its own mind and beginning to shake, but I no longer panic at the start of the movement.

I finished up my day.  The air was dry, with a slight breeze blowing.  The air had just a tinge of coolness to it.  But I still needed to roll up my sleeves to be comfortable.  It was a beautiful afternoon to be heading back home to ready for the sabbath.

I get to the station, and it appears to be more crowded than usual.  I don’t really pay it any mind.  I pull my headphones over my eyes and listen to Haydn’s 6th symphony.  I take a seat and just gaze out into the station.  The trains don’t seem to be coming, but I assume that I just missed one, and one will be along in 10 minutes or so.

Finally I hear the station master making an announcement that the trains are delayed and one will be along shortly.  Since I have time to spare, I wander around at the edge of the station.

There were all these micro landscapes waiting for me to discover.  Bits of moss, weds, and lichens that had made their home in this station in the Narashino section of Chiba.

Time, is all we have sometimes.  It often those moments when we are waiting for something to happen that life is at its most beautiful.

Shabbat shalom.  May you all have a beautiful and needed day of rest.

Today I was talking to a good friend of mine who has been going though some tribulations.  There are times in our lives no matter what we seem to do that the events in our have a way of dragging us down.  My friend commented that what actually lifted him up and over the much of everyday life was some poetry.  They were in fact a collection of haiku.  It was art that lifted up his soul and refreshed his spirit.

I too find that art has the power to lift me out of depression.  Art has the power to wipe the stains of life clean as I search out inspiration from the world around me.  I am surrounded by concrete; therefore, sometimes the only nature I am exposed to are confined to terra-cotta pots.  The largest recent inspiration comes from the skies above.

Today it came in a garden at a Buddhist temple.  I find it so relaxing that after a day of work to wander through this temple on my way back to the station.  Today a pair of large trees, with gnarly roots captures my soul.  I, of course, had passed them hundreds of times, but today was different.  I stood and watched them.

Some goldenrod also caught my eye as it was jetting out from the edge of a canal.  The earthy yellow pollen may be aggravating my allergies, but the colors are so soothing to gaze upon.

It is these little encounters with nature in an urban world that make my day.  I hope that others out there can reap the benefits of being in tune with the natural world around them.

This is a test, a surreal test of your attention.  It was a hot and humid last day of September when, Urayasu city held its annual Emergency Preparedness Drill.  The city in conjunction with Chiba Prefecture, and the National government  organized an event to inform its citizens of the facilities in what to expect in a disaster situation.

This of course takes on even deeper meanings since the March 11, 2011 earthquake that devastated Tohoku region of Japan.  Outside of the Tohoku region, Urayasu suffered the worst damage mainly due to liquefaction.

The police, military, and emergency services all had set up displays, and interactive events to help the people of Urayasu.  I am not sure if i found it comforting or disturbing.  They say (whoever they might actually be) that Japan is does more preparation than any other country in the case of disaster strikes. There are always drills, and mock events to test the readiness of the people, and its emergency services.  This is good; however, one can never fully prepare.  There is always, and most likely the chance that something will go wrong.  I do commend the patience of the Japanese people in response to the March 11th triple disasters.  I think they did a fabulous job of coming together in the hardest hit areas.

That brings me back to this surreal event unfolding before my eyes.  Seeing the water tanks that would be used, and in the case of recent events, were used.  Witnessing Disney-cutesy characters of a soldier, a police officer and an emergency worker, was truthfully made my stomach turn.

In the end I am glad I went.  It was surreal, a surreal test indeed.

Typhoon #18 was heading our way the other day.  The meteorologists were predicting that it would only barely touch the Tokyo area, as it was way out in the Pacific Ocean.  I usually don’t put too much trust in what they say, but  the wind was blowing a bit harder than usual, but other than that there wasn’t much sign that possible stormy weather was on its way.  The clouds had woven themselves into a a patch worked sky.

I did something that I rarely do on my lunch break, I went outside.  I just felt I needed to be alone and in the fresh air.  All the air was drenched in ocean aroma, as I wandered outside and found a single tree in a park near.  I just sat.  I attempted to do nothing.  I just listened to the breeze speak through the rustle of the the trees, and watch the clouds quickly unfurling across the the blue skies.  I seemed to be the only one for 100s of meters.  I know there were other people outside enjoying this wonderfully warm autumn day, but they had completely dropped out of my sphere of acknowledgment.

The colors were ultra vivid.  The sounds crystal clear, I could even see the mushrooms as they sprouted up out of the soil.  I hadn’t sat so still for a long time.  Time folded in on itself as I observed the tree’s shadow ebb and fade with each passing cloud.  My own personal natural cinema vérité flickering there at my feet.

It was a beautiful moment that wove itself directly into my soul.  Tapping in to that higher power of the creator when you allow your heart to syncopate with the world.  Each heartbeat flashed images as the natural celluloid natural cinema vérité continued.

A wonderful collection of moments that made up a fabulous day.  I saw the heavens and the earth, and even a mushroomed Mt.  Fuji.

It was just another sign of the passing from summer into autumn.  I spotted a few acorns that had been gathered and placed on the wooden gate of an old temple in Ichikawa, Chiba.  It is still early enough in autumn that the acorns were still green.  The green so beautifully contrasted against the centuries of patina on the wooden gates.

It truly seems like one day it was summer and the next day I am pulling a hoodie over my head to keep the chill factor at bay.  The wind was whipping around as gray covered the skies that this little acorn spoke out to me.

“Here I am!” it announced to the world.  I wonder how many had passed under the gate and missed this green gem.  Is the little acorn not speaking loudly enough?  Or is it that it is only there for the people that are operating on the same wave length.  Whoever placed the acorn there was also tuned into his/her surroundings.

As the phases of the moon tick off towards another year, it is always those little reminders that let us know the season, and our place in it.

Be on the watch for those acorns, for the changing leaves soon come.

Today is the Autumn Equinox which is a national holiday in Japan.  Even though this holiday falls on a Saturday, buses are running on a holiday schedule and many shops have closed up for the day.

It was the second day in a row that I awoke to some slightly cooler weather.  I was surprised when I stepped out onto my patio that the breeze was cool.  Compared with two days ago when the high reached 34 (93) today it is forecasted for the mercury to go no higher than 26 (78).  I am just loving this change.

I adore the changing of the seasons.  The slowly shortening days.  The way in which the light begins to change each day.  Before we know it the leaves will be reacting and putting on their autumn colors.

I am tied between spring and fall.  Spring gives us the rebirth of the world, whereas autumn readies us for winter.  In many ways they are the opposite of each other, as much as they are the same as each other.

After a long summer, I am ready for some cooler winds to prevail.  I hope that this autumn’s colors rain down on us.

Once upon a time there was only monochromatic photography.  The optical-chemical process could only produce a range of tones from white to black.  If color was to be added prints and glass slides needed to be hand tinted.

The photographer’s process of taking the world that surrounded them in full color transformed and removed the reality by stripping away that color and replacing it with tones of gray.

When color film came along in the 1930s photographers could, if they so chose, to photograph the world in color.  However, color photography seemed to be locked into the realm of advertising, and art so called art photography had to be in black and white.

Nowadays photographers have more control over their images than ever before.  Photographers need to be aware that their choices reflect how any image produced is to be perceived.

Why did I shoot this image in color, yet manipulated it into a monochromatic image?  I think in part it added a layer of surrealism to the environment.  The fact of coming across a pond with an island of reeds was just out of place among the asphalt and apartment buildings.  The mood completely changes if I were to present the image in color.

Black and white does not make an image more accessible as art.  It only acts to create a separation from the world we inhabit to the photography we create.

It is a monochromatic synthesized version of reality.

As the typhoon Sanba passed over Okinawa and headed over to Korea we on honshu were treated to some sporadic sun showers. I spent most of the day on the computer so as the sun was dropping from the sky I hopped on my cycle and headed out towards Kasai Rinkai Park.

The wind was blowing as I crept under the bridge and over to the park.  Today was a holiday in Japan so the park was crowded with families, friends and lovers.  The clouds were moving quickly as they brushed past the horizon.

People were sitting about on the edge of the water watching the spectacle unfold before us all. A beautiful end to a day filled with sunshine, rain, sweet breezes and clouds.

My wife found this little one while we were cycling through Kasai Rinkai Park near our home.   He was so tiny, and sick.  He had a nasty cold and was sneezing all the time.  We took him in and nursed him back to health.

He has about doubled in size since we first took him in.  We haven’t found a home for him yet, or officially given him a name.  Although, I am leaning towards calling him Rinkai.

On the backstreets we wander.  Looking for a place to call home.  A place that we can call our own.  Lost in the greenery as it overtakes the asphalt.

Backstreets is where I roam.