life @ enhasa

Number: 2
Name: Grand Ginkgo of Asahimachi (旭町の大いちょう)
Type: Gingko
Height: 32m
Trunk Circumference: 6.2m
Age: 300+ years
Location: 栃木県宇都宮市中央１丁目 (36° 33′ 27″N 139° 52′ 57″E)
Date of Visit: 2010-1-31

In Utsunomiya, at the intersection of the north-south road connecting City Hall with the Prefectural Government building and Ichou-dori, on the northwest corner stands this Ginkgo tree. The elevated location where it stands is the remnant of an earthen wall that formed a boundary at Utsunomiya Castle, but as it is now quite close to the downtown core, it was mostly lost. The Ginkgo was a symbol of Utsunomiya Castle, and later, an important symbol to the people of Utsunomiya City.

On July 12, 1945, from midnight until dawn, Utsunomiya suffered an American air raid. There were many victims, and approximately half the city center was lost. In the conflagration, this Ginkgo tree, too, was a victim, burned until it was completely pitch black. Yet, in the spring after the end of the war, green buds were to be seen sprouting from the tree that was thought to be dead. This gallantly strong life force lit the fire of courage in the hearts of the people of Utsunomiya.

Since then, this Ginkgo has become a symbol of the post-war revival. In 1986, on the 90th anniversary of the incorporation of Utsunomiya City, the citizens chose the Ginkgo as the city’s official tree. Surely, they were thinking of the Grand Ginkgo of Asahimachi when they made their choice.

Number: 1
Name: Giant Zelkova of Shinmachi (新町のケヤキ)
Type: Japanese Zelkova (Zelkowa Serrata)
Height: 38m
Trunk Circumference: 7.4m
Age: 800 years
Location: 栃木県宇都宮市新町２丁目 (36° 32′ 53″N 139° 52′ 31″E)
Date of Visit: 2010-1-31

Just 800m southwest of Utsunomiya City Hall, turn a corner and find yourself in a quiet residential area. Here is the Giant Zelkova of Shinmachi. Despite the homes and shops that have grown up in the area, the tree is so tall it can be seen nearly two kilometers away in Fudoumae.

According to the information board, in the Edo period, the tree stood near the entrance to the grounds of Utsunomiya Castle, and as such served as a landmark for travellers.

The roots seem to have grown under the street and other pavements. Though the environment has become difficult for this Zelkova, it still stands proud and lives vigorously. Some of the branches completely overhang the road. For this to have been preserved in a city area is precious, indeed.

In the pre-war days, there were three Zelkova like this, but now, only the largest tree remains, its companions having been felled long ago. That a single tree survives, though, is a happy thing. Surely, the people who worked to preserve this tree, and still work to preserve it, deserve our gratitude.

Salmon Cream Pasta Babystar Ramen

Saw this at the supermarket, and thought I’d give it a go. I’m not entirely clear on the Canada connection, beyond there is salmon in Canada, but whatever, I won’t ask questions.

I don’t… I don’ t know what they taste of.  Certainly not salmon, really. Delicious enough, though, so it’s okay.

Finch!

A common finch found injured on the grounds at school. The nurse is taking care of it until it’s better. She’s named it Yakitori, though, which is concerning…

I have the default “There once was a man from _____________” limerick stuck in my head. It’s maddening.

The cadence of my words
and the movement of my legs
are one
                                   are one.

Don’t ask me how I know
about the meaning of the flow
(there’s none
                                   there’s none.)

The longer I sit thinking
and am with my pen a-inking
I’m numb
                                   I’m numb.

How can a life so dull and shit
produce this malaise (we all feel it)

Oh. Oh. Oh.

I see.

I fancy myself a writer.  A creative writer, at that!  Fact of the matter is, I don’t actually write very often, and what I do write is shite.

But that’s not gonna stop me from torturing you lot with some of my drivel from time to time

This came to me at lunchtime one day in late October.  I had some free time, and it just… came. So I wrote it. Lunch ended while I was still writing, and I had to set it aside, and then when I came back to it later, I had no idea where it had been going, though at the time I’d had a clear idea of the final scene.  Should have made some notes before writing, I guess. I’ll share it here completely unedited, as written in my book.

I was sitting there, under that tree. I didn’t know why. I’ve been drawn there by something. I didn’t understand.

I’d never been there before. I lived half a world away at that time. One morning, over my morning coffee, reading the paper, looking for travel, I stumbled into business.  In a small article about I-know-not-what on page B9, there was a picture of a CFO apologizing to the employees of his company, and the shareholders he’d bilked out of scads of cash.

This didn’t interest me.  What did interest me was the wall behind the CFO — there was a framed painting or photo, partly obscured by his massive head.  It showed a tree, near the sea, with a figure sitting beneath it.

In that moment, my life changed. Before, I’d been drifting through life. I’d had no direction, and was content to merely exist day to day. Mine was a purposeless existence.

But when I saw this tree with a figure underneath, I knew immediately that this was my purpose: to find that tree and wait under it.

I called into work and quit. I didn’t bother to explain; they wouldn’t have understood.

I sure as hell didn’t.

I didn’t know where the tree was, and that was troublesome. I looked at page B9 again and noted the company in question.  A quick Google later, and I was on my way.

Arriving at the office building, I walked into the lobby. A security guard questioned my purpose. Of course, I couldn’t tell him everything, no would he have wanted me to, I think.  I showed him the newspaper clipping, and he waved me to the far end of the vestibule. I w

There it was, the painting which had so captivated me.  I’ll admit, though the quick discovery of the painting ought to have been a joyful moment for me, I found that I was filled with despair. You see, it was a painting — I’d been hoping for a photo. With a photo, I’d know, definitively, that the tree and that place which I felt a drive to go to unlike any desire or lust I’d ever felt before, was a real place, a place I could go, a place where I could satiate this desire.

But it was a painting. A detailed painting that could, conceivably, have been painted on site, or from a photograph, and I could still trace back the location. But, at the same time, it could be nothing more than a vivid image of an imagined place reproduced by a talented artist.

I set about finding any information on the painting that i could. There was no signature that I could see, and no information placard — this was an office tower, not a gallery.

With a quick glance around to see if anyone was looking, and satisfied that I was safe, I lifted the painting off the wall, to get a better look at the backside. The painting wasn’t large — with frame, it was just a touch bigger than an A3 sheet of paper.

And that’s all there is.  I reckon the immediately-next thing was going to be the main character absconding with the painting tucked in his jacket.  This is just a start to the only story I can write; every story I ever write, of an appreciable length with an appreciable amount of thought always turns into this story where someone ends up waiting an eternity under a tree by the seaside.  It’s never exactly the same, but if anyone read through my notebooks, they’d definitely notice the slightly-melancholic, waiting forever under a tree by the sea motif that crops up EVERYWHERE.

The first time I used it was in a class in high school when I wrote a 50,000 word manuscript on reincarnation and magic and mysticism and eternal love.  The tree by the sea, there, was a powerful unifying motif.  Ever since then, the motif is always there, even though it may not be a main, plot-important one.  This start to a story, presented here, would have relied on the tree as a major thing.

Maybe it’s just my signature?

My obsession?

I don’t really know.

Anyway, I’ll probably subject y’all to my writings again soon.  Sorry!

Furby Store Manager

In Okachimachi, there’s a store selling semi-precious stones — by the cup, by the geode, by the pretty encrusted tree — and it seems to be managed by a Furby.