Notes From The Tiger’s Cave

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As spring unfolds in all her glorious panoply here in Japan, the sound of the Japanese bush warbler can be heard in the land.

Or, as far as I am concerned, the sound of chatter about bush warblers during English class can be heard in the community centres of Hiroshima.

For the callow warble of your common or garden bush warbler is as much a harbinger of spring in these parts as the sound of the first cuckoo is in the countryside around nether regions of Tunbridge Wells.

I wonder if retired Japanese Army (er, Self Defence Force, because “Japan does not have an army”) colonels inform the Asahi Shinbun that they heard the sound of the first uguisu of spring. I expect they would use a calligraphy brush and compose an elegant haiku, something like:

Uguiso ga

uchi no niwa ni wa,

uta no renshu

Which, being translated, is as much to say,

Regarding the bush

 warbler perched in my garden,

 it’s learning to sing.

Now, if I had been a bit cleverer I would have tossed in a blooming plum tree, because any early spring haiku worth its salt really needs to feature a bush warbler that has relinquished its bush in favour of a plum tree in blossom.

And another thing…

When talking about bush warblers in early spring, it is essential that you comment on how the callow hatchlings have not yet mastered the full bush warble and spend the early days of springtime practising, practising, practising and again, practising, just like Japanese tennis club members, who are all practice and no play.

To fully master the art of early spring Japanese conversation it is essential that you also master the sound of a bush-warbler’s warble, both in its fully formed perfection, and in its callow half-cocked sweetness.

As soon as early spring has passed and the plum blossom has fallen, all talk of the callow uguisu practising his song must be put away with the winter weeds and must not see light of day until next year.

David Hurley

http://grasp-the-nettle.com

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The portrait of Ellen Terry by George Frederic Watts shows her smelling a camellia flower. Notice the pointed leaves, which are nothing like fig leaves at all!

The Japanese word for camellia is tsubaki. The oil from the pods such as the one I plucked from the tree in my student’s garden is used to make hair oil, and the results can be seen in this video, plucked from YouTube!

What else can be said about the Japanese camellia?

The Samurai are said to have disliked camellia flowers because when they fall from the bough they remind them of someone having his head cut off and it sent a shiver down their spines.

The image of falling is associated with the camellia in a haiku by the poet, Bassho, who himself served a Samurai master for a while:

Falling upon earth,

of the camellia

Actually, the camellia was cultivated by some Samurai, and used for decoration in the tea ceremony.

PRIZES

Since nobody got the answer right, it is up to me to ALLOCATE two second prizes to the contributions that I enjoyed most. Very difficult really, with all that chat about quinces, kumqwats and coconuts, but here goes:

Second Prize First Class goes to Charles Boustany for the hilarious suggestion that it might be “dekopon”, which Steve Meyer enjoyed so much on the PPG forum!

Second Prize Second Class goes to Dobson O’Corrical for his inventive imagination.

If you would like me to send you your prize please send me your address via the form on this page: http://grasp-the-nettle.com/contact.html

David Hurley

Internet Marketing Strategies

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Here’s another photo to help you identify what it is that I plucked from one of the trees in my lady’s Japanese garden: 

 
If men can touch

even the forbidden sacred tree,

why can I not touch you

simply because you are another’s wife?

Otomo Yasumaro, Manyoshu, vol 4.

David Hurley

Internet Marketing Strategies

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