Playing with Ice2

Almost the end of February, and the plums are still hesitant about blooming. On the weekend we had a warm day with a strong damp wind which melted all of the remaining snow in the garden, and the icebergs in the fish urn were reduced into placid water. I could see a few fish darting about under the water weeds.

Last night was cold enough for the urn to glass over in the thinnest layer of transparent ice, mysteriously patterned with tiny bubbles frozen into six-spoked stars. So this morning I played.

A few nights ago the full moon had me out there with a tripod, pointing the camera at the icebergs. Not much to be gleaned there but scattered bits of light. This leaves a whole world of investigation for next winter.

Playing with Ice

 I have been having a lot of fun playing with the ice in the fish urn. Every night the surface refreezes into galaxies of strange patterns. I was perfectly content to just take photos of the ice, but today someone suggested I play with it more, so I did.

And then I got tired of trying to add flowers to ice, and started to look around at what was already there in the snow. 

 And found some piece of old tinsel glinting in the mud. You really never know what you'll find when you start looking.

The End of Winter

Early February marks the end of winter in many seasonal and lunar-based calendars of the world. In Japan, February 3rd is called Setsubun, the separation of the seasons. Yesterday, my husband followed the tradition of his father by throwing roasted soybeans out the front door (and into the neighbor's parking area) while shouting "Demons out!!" Then he stood outside and threw the soybeans into the house, while shouting, " Good fortune in!!!" I stood there and giggled happily.

Still, winter has not completely released its grip even though the plums and narcissus are starting to bloom. There aren't enough blossoms open yet to support the nectar-drinking birds, (bulbul and white-eye) who wake me up with expectant shrieks and soft chittering, prodding me to get going on the daily mandarin orange donations that tide them over during sparse times.

The coming spring tide has also released the tensions of the earth in the form of an ongoing volcanic eruption in the south of Japan. During winter here on the Kanto plain I am constantly reminded that the soil beneath my feet is volcanic in nature, gifted by the past eruptions of Mt. Fuji.
Shimobashira, or frost pillars, form nightly as the moisture in the earth freezes, lifting the powdery volcanic deposits up into bio-film-like platforms that crunch and collapse with each footstep at dawn.