Sorry-ology

Dear child, How are you? Have you been enjoying your small habitat in my belly? You have been a popular topic whenever I go these days, no matter it is an academic occasion or a work place. I remember a passage about the heroine's pregnancy in Jhumpa Lahiri's The Namesake , in which the heroine, an Indian immigrant who has just settled down in New York, suddenly finds the entire world smiling at her because of her newborn. It didn't make any particular impression on me when I read the episode for the first time; however, it seems to explain exactly what has happened to me these days.

Last month after I entered the sixth month of pregnancy, my parents-in-law took us to Suitengu. In Japan, when expecting mothers are half-way through their pregnancy, they would visit shrines on a day called the day of canine (usually twice a month at a 12-day interval) in order to pray for safe delivery and a healthy newborn.

I haven't updated about the progress of this growing project in my belly for some time. There have been many things deserving to be written down, especially some cultural shocks that I haven't thought of in terms of the concept of motherhood.

In a dinner party last Friday, I happened to eat some delicious raw seafood, which I had been reminding myself to avoid since my pregnancy began. I was not ready to divulge my cause yet, so I, probably, took the liberty to enjoy the delicacy.

I understand very well that I am way too sober and still resistant to acknowledge any possible joy this project means to people in general. However, despite all biological changes that are taking place in me now, I still want to be in control of myself and still fear of intensive attention (from my own parents, for instance). Sometimes, I wonder if the new life in me would feel very lonely since both K and I are still somehow detached.

19/July/2014 (Sat) We visited a local gynaecological centre for the first time on the 19th to begin a 40-week project. By now the small life has already settled down in me for more than 8 weeks. I thought that I should keep some record during this long and patient process, but there is no guarantee of feelings of excitement in my future writings, as readers of my blog would know that I am quite incapable of expressing elated emotion in general.

Finally after almost 3 years since it was introduced to the garden, our hydrangea is going to bloom this year. It has been a anxiety-making process since the first flower buds were discovered beneath folded leaves in early May. I started to look for information regarding the ways in which to ensure its blossoms. Many days were spent worrying about slight signs of invasion of insects; many more days were wasted on wondering if my home-concocted insecticide would damage those flourishing mopheads. In the end, despite all my concerns, they seem all managed to emerge from their leafy cradles and get ready for their time: the rainy season. Our hydrangea is supposed to yield flowers of the colour of lazurite. However, given that the colour of hydrangea is determined by the pH of soil, and that it has been 3 years since its arrival, I do not know what shade I should expect this year. No discrimination against other colours though. Yet, I still think the colour of lazurite gives a myst...

Quietly lavenders have also joined the ensemble in the garden. They smell wonderfully sweet as everybody knows. The shade of lavender looks best in early dawn, when the air is still moist and somehow grey. Strong sun beam easily discolours their soft tone and disables camera to see it. Update on 8 June, 2014 It has been pouring since the day before yesterday when the rainy season officially kicked off. Many of the lavenders have been bent by the heavy rain. I rescued some of them to be displayed in a newly-adopted flower vase.

The front yard Distant Drums and California Poppies Compliments from passers-by these days really flattered my vanity. I have heard that parents who helplessly admire their own babies for no reason are considered foolish. I guess, along with this logic, I would be a foolishly infatuated gardener. Poppies and Roses are blooming at their peak despite the howling wind of printemp in Japan. Corn Poppies  This is the first corn poppy in the yard. There is a long story about the ways in which I simply uprooted all of its sprouts imagining that they would be invasive weeds. Thanks to my poor vision though, some have survived my destructive hands, and now it is blooming like beautiful a red saucer. The Blue Moon Voluminous, gently coloured and fragrant are the Blue Moon. I sometimes wonder how I would count roses, since that the blossoms are as big as one's palm. Perhaps, a head of rose?

Here is a collection of roses this year. In general, they are doing pretty well compared with last year. Royal sunset and distant drums have probably adapted themselves to their new home well enough to produce very healthy-looking flowers. While the distant drum is shorter in build, the royal sunset winds its way to the top of a spire that is fixed on the ground.  Royal Sunset Distant Drums Our blue moon is an old friend in the garden. It has never failed to amaze us over the past three years; however, after its first blossom last week, the following flowers, though abundant in quantity, look smaller in size. I was unable to cut back one main stem of the blue moon last winter, and now, despite that it still manages to pride itself on carrying more than a handful of buds, it seems to be too tall to balance the bush. The Blue Moon

Our garden has been blooming all the way since March after a frosty February. Exciting! I have unknowingly developed this strange anxiety about posting photos of flowers on fb, worrying that I would be bombarding others with my personal hobby. In the end, photos of, for instance, babies are definitely more inviting and exciting. Therefore, for the time being, I would grow my private interest here instead. I sometimes felt funny that when the public side of the self gets too much publicized, there is a tendency in me to privatize it. In a Christmas party last year, a neighbour said that he always saw me in the garden. I understood that he meant no harm; however, it is difficult for me to take it as a compliment, given that most adult females in this neighbourhood are young mothers preoccupied with their toddlers. I have been feeling a certain degree of pressure on childless couple, who have had too much time to spend on plants. (I do believe, however, I would never abandon th...

Bruce James Talbert, Design for 'The Sunflower' Wallpaper , 1878 V&A, London We visited an exhibition on the aesthetic movement from 1860-1900 in Mitsubishi Museum , Tokyo. The style of the late Raphaelite was once my favourite when I was a teen. It was the elaborate and dream-like ambiance that fascinated me. As I have grown more critical, these works of art no longer mesmerise me, but they are still beautiful to look at. This design for 'The Sunflower' wallpaper is something that has stayed in my mind since the visit. I remember I used to like painting sunflowers, of which the circular arrangement of petals and elongated stems were what I never grew tired of drawing.

We are having two gold fish holidaying in our house at the moment during the 10-day absence of their masters. It is the first time for us to keep pets in the house, and it has been unexpectedly entertaining. They are two creatures which have quite a personality. Being voiceless does not mean that they don't show much emotion. Whenever the bottle of fish food is lifted from a nearby table or carelessly passed across in front of them, they would get extraordinarily stirred. They would open wide their mouths as if they are mumbling a silent protest if nothing ends up in the aquarium. They also follow human beings' movement unbelievably well. Whenever somebody is near to the small tank, they would immediately crowd to a certain corner to seek attention. Exactly like pet dogs to a certain degree. Occasionally, they become small audiences to watch me dancing aerobics in the room. Sometimes they would peck at each other, but no serious crime has been committed so far. They al...

This is an overdue entry regarding an exhibition on the art of gardening in Edo-period Tokyo last year (July 2013): Flowers in Bloom: the Culture of Gardening in Edo .  It is not a theme popular among young people in Japan, and the relatively young Edo-Tokyo Museum hasn't claimed its importance on the map of tourism of Tokyo. I was then blessed with a quiet morning in leisure with my Korean friend at the exhibition.  The exhibition showed the ways in which gardening and the passion for plants were a fashion in Tokyo during the Edo period. It was part of the Samurai culture to love and grow plants, and later on the zeal reached out to the general public.  Unfortunately now I cannot recall much about the exhibition in details. Below are some images that I really love.  歌川貞秀 亜墨利加之商人小樹之桜を求めて大に歓喜之図 This is a portrait of an American merchant who is said to be overjoyed with his new acquisition of a cherry tree. The image of the lady on top left was pr...

Having been informed that it would be only a small event for colleagues and friends in relation to the career of the deceased, I gave up the idea of attending the memorial gathering for him. He passed away last October, a distressing loss to people around him. I did not know him well, but he interviewed me for a job, and although we did not see each other often after that, I had always thought that he was a respectable acquaintance. I was upset when being denied my condolence in person, but it does not bother me any more. No matter how much one minds, nothing will change the fact of death. My dismay did not result from the absence of an invitation, perhaps. It was probably a more selfish reason that I felt strongly being prevented from showing my gratitude and sending my heart. So it was perhaps more about the living rather than the dead in this case. A friend of mine believes that invitations to occasions, such as weddings, are a testament to friendship. Is this th...

The other day we watched a BBC costume drama, North and South , a 2004 TV adaptation of Elizabeth Gaskell’s novel.   I have owned the DVD for a couple of years, which was bought together with another BBC period drama, Cranford . At that time, I was unaware of either Gaskell the author or her work. I still haven’t read the original of North and South but have heard that the TV adaptation is quite faithful to the written story. The drama itself is worth watching for its romance, social concerns, its first-class acting, great chemistry between the main actors and atmosphere-creating cinematography.     The story takes place in England in the nineteenth-century when English society was divided between its industrial north and the middle-class south. A young lady, Margaret Hale, moves to Milton with her middle-class family from a southern town, Helston; she then struggles to overcome her shock at the ruthlessness of the northern culture, learns to ada...