My Old 'Hood

Every morning in Japan I would walk or ride my bike to school. It was a pleasant ten minutes on foot, five on the wheels. I'd walk pass vegetable patches and a few apartment buildings. On a fine day, futons would be hung over the balcony railings getting sunned.

I'd pass the same characters every morning. Mothers who'd just dropped their kids off to the local kindergarten, one of whom had a gorgeous long-haired golden retriever. The man riding his bike, dressed in a business suit with his briefcase in the basket on the front. The two school girls that would gossip on their way to the local public high school. The Brazilian guy who worked close to my house. The grandma who would use the phrase "Itterasshai" to send me off as if I was a family member.

While the scenery would change with the seasons, there was a garden filled with bonsai, plum blossoms in early spring and always seasonal vegetable in the gardens.

Used tatami mats breaking down to be used in the garden.

Plastic bottle soldiers guarding the flower pots.

On a good weather day, the senior citizens playing gateball.

Gloves waiting patiently for their owner to come back and work in the garden again.

A friendly farmer who was always in his patch except for in the worst of weather. He rode his three-wheeled bike from his house every morning and hung his radio on one of the posts. Without fail, he'd always have a friendly smile and a wave for me.

Large daikon radish.

Colourful cabbage scattered among the vegetables waiting to be eaten.

With this walk every morning, my days began with a smile.