Like some paper moon, this bamboo lamp casts a starburst of shadows before a branch of coral bark maple. A scene from the Floating World perhaps, centuries ago, that replays itself in varying versions over all the ensuing years. What remains is the beauty, the lingering sigh, that feeling of being so full you want to squeeze someone’s hand to realize your place is still of this earth. Rainy summer evenings make for some of the saddest times, such gloom at direct odds with the season of the sun. One expects the dreary stuff in fall or winter; summer makes the sting more acute.
This is when we find solace in the interior. This is why we make our rooms as pretty and peaceful as possible. This is where a branch of maple leaves becomes a portal to another century, another place. This is the space where music speaks for longing.
The last thing I want to do is wish the summer away.
Keeping that in mind, I endeavor to embrace the moment, rainy night and everything that goes along with it – the stickiness, the air with enough coolness to give it just an edge, the purgatorial wait until the sun comes up and out again. A rainy summer night is right in its own way, it carries its own beauty hand in hand with its darkness. Still, I yearn for light…
