Sounds of Spring

     One rare sunny Thursday what a treat to take hirugohan (lunch) al fresco with two dear calligraphy classmates. Chattering beside a tall pine tree, we were interrupted by a sudden bird song. Tokyoites are accustomed to the bold cawing of gangs of crows and squeaky bulbuls, but this was a melody. Who was serenading us? Nothing was visible as the song emerged clearly from deep within the evergreen. Our server identified the tune as the spring visitor uguisu (nightingale), often heard but not seen.  

     " Nakamura-Sensei is so  modern," tomodachi-san observed about our shodo no sensei (calligraphy instructor) as we walked to the classroom. "She allows us to choose projects freely."  For the month of April four ambitious students are producing kanji (Chinese characters) on scrolls that measure the height of our rather tall Sensei. A few are working on shikishi (square boards). One student is preparing for an exam. Tomodachi-san selected a waka (30 syllable poem). During my last trip to the art supply shop I bought a vertical piece of washi, paper from the mulberry as delicate as onion skin.

     "How charming, a tanzaku," Sensei said: "A poem card."  During o-hanami (flower viewing season) I followed a trail of rectangular cards along the Meguro River, a haiku series in sumie ink. "During the Heian period about 1000 years ago, calligraphers used white tanzaku for poetry anthologies, but in later times it became the custom to decorate the paper with cloud patterns."  She showed me a sample rectangle in lilac with flecks of gold and handed me an anthology of haiku with a gray bird on the cover--  the elusive uguisu.  Seventeen syllables about the uguisu on practice tissue paper has stacked up until Sensei recommends the plunge into the lilac rectangle.