Despite the cold weather these days and the saddening emotional climate in Japan at the moment, spring has stolen in in the air. I have been waiting for spring since August when we moved. As I have written on the new year's postcards to friends in the freezing December of 2010, spring has been very much anticipated because there are so many to look forward to in the garden. It is unfortunate that right before spring will start, the nation is faced with multiple unprecedented natural and artificial disasters. Yet nothing will linger forever and there is always a tomorrow to live for.

Gardening is a philosophy that attends to the arts of anticipation. A seed planted is carefully nurtured to grow into, to enrich, and to flesh out, its gardener's imagination. Before budding, before stemming, beofore flowering, there are many to worry about, many uncertainties, but much more to hope for.

The seeds that I sprinkled in the soil last autumn have projected for me an exciting image of the garden in the spring.

Today, I planted the first tubers for this year, dahlia, and will look forward to their blossom in between early summer and autumn this year, a time when, I hope, the people and the country that are suffering from the current catastrophe will recover and move forward again. It would take some time, and a gardener's patience and vision will be helpeful when one cultivates the land, cares for the wounds, and looks forward to the future.

The tulip bulbs, which were planted last winter, have pierced through the ground and are vigorously extending their leafy arms to the sun. It was not until the fourth month after the seeding that I was assured of their vitality when buds were felt at the fingertips beneath the surface of the soil. Last winter was fiercely relentless, very cold and dry, but they have made it through.