An ‘Arbour’s Arbor
An ‘Arbour’s Arbor
<mindramble>
At the exact same moment as Tohoku’s calamatous earthquake struck, I was pottering on a project within a project within my favourite place in the whole wide world; the orchard, fronting and floating the harbour, a mere five meters above sea level.
The orchard is of itself a project; a project to turn what was once wasteland into wonderland, and I’ll get to that it a minute. First, I’d like to talk about when the quake struck.
Were we a few hundred kilometers east when the quake struck, we wouldn’t be here now.
<Sobering>
Luckily for us, when the quake struck, we felt …
<Nothing>
…
The quake just didn’t reach it this far. And nor, too, did the tsunami. The outlying island of Shikoku, home of Masanobu Fukuoka, an influence whose book “The One-Straw Revolution” partly inspires this project, blocked and diffused the wave. By the time it reached here, the wall of water was thankfully a mere 20cm high.
Fukuoka’s message is most easily explained by his food mandala, pictured below, in which he advocates growing and eating seasonal foods. It’s not rocket science, just common sense, but it is sense that society’s “I want this and I want it now” culture overlooks all too easily. It’s all about harnessing seasons:
Pic: Click!
So in the orchard, we’ve planted with eyes on succession; taranome, loquats, and cherries segue into apricots, plums and peaches, before passing to apples and akebi and pears and olives and chestnuts before the cold-weather citrus kicks in, with grapefruit, citron, mandarin oranges, lemons, limes, Seville oranges and kumquats. There’s fun stuff in there, too; daffs, iris, gladiolai, tulips, cinnamon, azaleas, butturburr and butterfly bushes, all trying to close that circle, trying to create a natural, enjoyable year-round food-source cycle.
The project within the project I was working on when the quake struck was trying to innovately insert grapes into our mandala by creating an arbor; a place for blossom-viewing and hammocks, for summer shade, for the DJ’s that come and play, for playing with the kids, and maybe even snatching a sneaky kiss (not with the DJ’s, mind you). It was, like the entire orchard project is itself, a labour of love.
It’s done now, but the satisfaction of a completed project, of being one step further to self-sufficiency (and more) is muted, marred by melancholy. The reason? Odds on, somewhere up the coast, a similar-minded father of young kids, labouring for them, striving and sweating for them, trying to make this rock a better place, has, with his orchard, perhaps with his family, been shook, swept, or irradiated away.
Watching and smelling the cherries bloom this year was a haunting, solitary affair, mourning folk never met.
Kitchengardensighingjapan




*sigh*
Kindred spirits, they’re out there.
It’s snowing here right now….
At least I don’t have to sit there and watch the radiation. Or spend my days shovelling it!
Shovelling snow: tiresome
Shovelling shit: a little on the nose
Shovelling radioactive sludge: Let your fingers do the walking
(Apologies, only Brits will get this reference)
Hang in there Julian, and, might I suggest, find an indoor hobby for a while.
Cheers,
T
beautiful. Thanks for posting your thoughtful thoughts and the mandala – I’m going to put it on my fridge.
Thanks, Beth. It’s very cool that you’ve taken an interest in Fukuoka and his mandala, his writings and philosophies are very much worth reading. But just a quick word to the wise, get a very heavy, very black marker pen and strike out “sea cucumbers” before you stick it on the fridge.
Some things just aren’t food
Cheers,
T
I see you went all out on the flooring there.
Heh.
Mandala, PRINTED. Thanks !
ken
Two packs of clover, Ken, TWO. Oh, a life of such sweet excess…
Right back at you on the mandala.
Cheers,
T
Thanks for the post, thoughts, and the offer earlier. We’re back in Tokyo settling in again while both ignoring and paying an inordinate amount of attention to the news. It’s all rather strange these days, yet normal. I can’t quite get my mind around it. I too think of those like me with lives so changed or lost that I am simply humbled and sad.
I hear what you’re saying, Joan.
Glad to see you’re back up and out. If you ever do make it down this way, I’ll happily wheel you about
Take care, stay safe,
Tom