In the Cedar Mountains, below the Panda Moon
I picked up the satchel with the photographs and followed Yukiko to the veranda, where we slipped into our sandals. Her tabi were discolored, even torn. As we walked I noticed that in the gleaming, brassy-orange afternoon light there was a reddish tint to her hair, and I noticed also, unusual for a Japanese woman, her sharp, even pointy features. Then I had to watch my feet instead of her as she nimbly led me across a series of low bridges that arced gently over glittering ponds, some of them with koi or turtles.
Seated with his robes splayed on either side of him, Mr. Tanaka gazed listlessly upon a garden returning to nature.
The cat he’d been absentmindedly petting jumped down from his lap and scampered off.
He indicated the tray with an array of ceramic and lacquerware bowls and utensils.
“When all else fails,” he smiled, “sit down and have a cup of tea.”
“This is gorgeous. I’ve never seen such spacious grounds. Well, maybe at the Huntington Library in San Marino.”
“A sign of a man’s wealth is not in the size of his home, but in the size and quality of his gardens.”
I turned back to gaze at his villa, The Moonlight of the Grove.
“Well, your chateau isn’t so shabby either.”
I smiled at Mr. Tanaka and turned to smile at Yukiko as well, but she had already gone.
We sat silently on the stone bench and wordlessly inhaled the vista before us. It wasn’t so much the green glow of the mountains that enchanted me as it was the lavender glow of the distant rooftops, many of them sheathed in cypress bark.
“Let me quote Goethe to you,” Mr. Tanaka said at last. “In observing nature on both a large scale and a small, I have increasingly posed the question: Is it the object or is it you yourself finding expression here?”
“I imagine that, right now, we are one and the same with nature.”
He nodded, and pointed. “Blind Turtle Mountain there; Jade Turtle Mountain over here.”
“Lots of turtles in this part of Japan?”
“Badgers, foxes, deer, squirrels; a variety of woodland animals.”
“Of course. Plus crickets under the floorboards and I couldn’t help but notice the little bamboo cages with their fancy beetles. I’m hoping to see some fireflies at twilight.”
“We call them spirit lanterns, did you know that? When I was a young man I’d carry a pouch filled with them, and then I’d release them in order to get a good look at a potential lover.” He laughed softly at the memory, and then turned serious:
“I had met this very shy young woman who was proficient at playing the koto, knew the secrets of go, was skilled in calligraphy and painting, and was admired for her flower arranging. But it was the way she plucked and strummed the koto that enraptured me. Did you know that instruments with traditionally forlorn sounds are made from decayed wood? Explain that!
“One day I decided to follow her home. I had removed my sandals so that she wouldn’t hear me. She lived in a cottage in the forest, or so I thought. Then I saw her crouch down, on all fours. I held my breath, and watched her crawl into a burrow. She was a fox spirit, in human form! I hesitated, but gathered up my courage; and then I crawled into the burrow after her…”
His voice trailed off. “Now, open the satchel and show me what you’ve brought.”
