My Tsubo-niwa, My Oasis
In response to Dancing Elephants prompt 30 of 52
This tiny garden in front of the house is my oasis. Every morning I look out from the window of my den. I wonder how many clouds are hanging in the sky, if any bird is resting on the maple tree, or which branch of the Buddha’s yew is turning brown.
This Tsubo-niwa (坪庭, a Japanese word for a tiny garden), is my own creation.
It used to be a boring yard with a lawn with no hedge to hide from the street. I seldom spent time looking at it when working 9 to 5, so I wondered why I had to have someone come and mow every so often in the summer.
My days of going to work every day were over. I turned the also tiny den facing the yard into my tea room/ home office/ Ikebana studio. Sitting in the den, looking out in the window, getting tired of the dull green grass, I asked myself, “Am I going to keep paying for mowing this unappreciated lawn forever? For what?”
So I ripped off the lawn one day.
I went to several places hunting for gravel, found the one I liked, and got 60 bags of gravel.
I lined up concrete blocks on the borderline with our neighbor’s property so that the gravel won’t run over our neighbor’s front yard.
On the naked ground, I spread weed barrier fabric. I placed stepping stones creating a path to meander around.
On top of the fabric, I spread the gravel. 56 bags of them. I smoothed them out.
I worked in the yard for the whole week. Maybe longer than 9 to 5. Until I declared, “Done!”
Now almost seven years later, the Buddha’s yew trees I planted on the hedge have grown almost as tall as I. The height of the trees is uneven, but what can I do? Each tree has its own pace to grow. I will wait patiently till they grow tall and wide enough to trim evenly.
The ground cover that I planted, hoping to imitate the moss of the moss garden in Kyoto, never covers the entire surface I wish it to. But I refuse to add any synthetic fertilizer. The only fertilizer is the fallen leaves and weeds I pluck out of the ground.
There is never a moment that the garden looks “perfect”. Always some fraud. Some branches of the yew look brown. Some strange shoots are sprouting on the ground. Some birds might have brought the seeds with their droppings.
This tiny, ever-changing Tsubo-newa, is my favorite nature where I live.
Thank you, Dr. Preeti Singh, for your fun prompt, as always!
Muhammad Nasrullah Khan’s poem forces me to face the harsh fact.
Oh, flowers! And a beautiful poem! Thank you, William J Spirdione.
Originally published at https://akemisagawa.com on April 24, 2023.