Papa! Matte!

Autumn at Tamagawadai Park

Despite earlier predictions, the autumn leaves in my part of Tokyo have been quite colorful.

After very close to 11 years here, I am beginning to get used to the late, warm autumns. I used to think it strange that autumn leaves were peaking in late November/early December as they have long ago peaked and fallen back home.

Now I am tempted to agree with people who tell me that the weather is getting cold---at 60 degrees!!!!!

I have been here too darned long.

River Dance

With apologies to the musical...

There are certain times that folks don't want to see reality. One might be walking along the Tamagawa for instance and want to ignore the fact that what appears to be nature or natural---if you use a very selective focus---isn't really. It's all man-made, or at the very least, man-altered.

We can't expect much more many thousand years since mankind arrived on the planet, and we certainly cannot expect much more in Japan, let alone the huge metropolis of Tokyo where man-altered nature is considered more natural than virgin nature---is there such a thing in 2010 anywhere anyway?

The reluctance to see reality is a natural human tendency; I think it is a form of self-defense, for if one were to take a strictly logical, realistic view of the world and life, we'd all be in a constant state of depression, habitually intoxicated, or both.

What does this have to do with anything? Not much, I suppose, but when out running around with a camera and trying to capture what is my view of a real Tokyo, I never seem to capture it. Such a thing is impossible no matter how many words a photo is supposedly worth.

This was taken last December on a walk along the Tama River. There are stands of small trees along the river around Tamagawadaikoen/Tamagawa Station areas. I was playing around trying to find something that I could look at and sorta become lost in a fantasy that it was something more than what really existed. It ain't perfect by far, there are flaws that cannot be fixed with Lightroom, it doesn't look right on blogger or Firefox, and the technique is said to be overdone nowadays, but I don't care. I can look at it and pretend that what is not is something that is. That sort of thing seems to have become much more important...

自分勝手ですけど。。。

A windy New Year on Fujisan

A friend of mine who fancies himself an outdoorsman of sorts often asks what I do when I go to the mountains. I have found that if I have to explain in detail to someone what I do when I hike or spend time outdoors or why I like to do so, they'll never understand anyway.

N-san has climbed Fujisan twice and has been after me to do so too. "Why?" I asked the last time we debated it. "Because everyone is supposed to before they die," he replied. "Why?" I asked again. As much as N-san tried to convince me that climbing Fujisan in the summer with about a gazillion others on the same trail was a wilderness experience, he was unable to do so. I have no desire to ever climb Fuji, unless it were in the closed season. And I can probably live without that. I don't understand N-san's fascination with climbing Mt. Fuji any more than he understands mine with less populated places.

This was taken from Tamagawadaikoen on January 2nd. I avoided the group of 10 or so waiting to photograph it from the quasi-official "view" spot and went further into the park where I knew I could get a clear view and a photo somewhat different than the others of today.

It was windy on old Fuji today, as it always seems to be in the winter.

A kiss goodnight

Fujisan can't often be seen from Tokyo, but on clear winter days it occasionally makes an appearance. On a spring-like Valentines Day, it became visible just before sunset.

Taken with a Nikon D300/Tamron 200-500mm (@500mm) from Tamagawadai Park, Tokyo.

February "Blizzard" in Tokyo

Or as close to one as we get in Tokyo. It was quite cold for the area that morning. I actually got numbed fingers even though I was wearing mittens. I have not been that cold in the Tokyo area in years.

Last of the fall