I visited the Shugakuin Imperial Villa on the last day of my trip. The garden is situated in the hills of the eastern suburbs of Kyoto. Tangerine, magenta, and gold maple leaves glided down and settled on calm water like peaceful raindrops. The smudged greens and oranges of the foliage and the shadow of the rounded stone bridge merged on the pond to create a rainbow. The harmonic gong of a bell brought my gaze to a little scarlet and white pagoda. Its up-turned roof corners and nine-tiered tower made it easily recognizable. For Buddhists, each tier on the pagoda’s tower represents one of nine levels of heaven. The scent of pond weed and lilies drifted up on the damp breeze. Camera snaps and elevated tourist chatter reminded me that I did not belong there. Box shrubs clustered around the edge of the pebble path. Behind them were the famous Japanese cherry blossom trees. And, every once in a while, bonsai also twisted and curled. Bonsai symbolize harmony and balance. They are grown with purposeful imperfection and the asymmetrical triangle used for their design symbolizes a continuation of life. Japan was defi nitely worth the trip. It was a little frightening at fi rst to walk around in Kyoto, so I suggest you use the subways until you get the hang of the streets. I found the Japanese were varied in their reception of an English tourist. Some grinned hugely at my accent and were willing to try to understand me, but some got annoyed at my lack of vocabulary and avoided me. Nevertheless, I wholeheartedly encourage you to plan a trip to Japan and to make sure you have the Shugakuin Imperial Villa at the top of your ‘to do’ list! Matthew set down his quill and stared at his ink-stained fingers. He thought about how Blossom would have loved the Imperial Villa. Shaking his head as if to rid himself of the thought, he placed the leaves of cream paper in a brown envelope and wrote: Travel column: Japan by Matthew Stevens For: The Daily Telegraph He plucked his hat off its hook and shrugged on his green corduroy coat. His scuffed, battered briefcase in one hand, and the rattling doorknob in the other, he let himself out of the flat. The sidewalk was cool in the early evening. Birds were singing and families were strolling home from a day at the park. Bird song is the best kind of music in the world, thought Matthew. Tired mothers pushed buggies with exhausted babies who drifted off to the rhythmic bumping. It had been a gorgeous day. The sun had been dazzling, the air heavy with blossoms and bird chatter. But now that evening had come, coolness rushed back in, as if trying to chase people off. When Matthew reached the Daily Telegraph office, he took off his hat and stepped inside. “Hello, Leslie.” Matthew smiled at the secretary who was hunched over some papers at her desk in the foyer. “Hello, Mr. Stevens.” Leslie smiled and straightened up. “We were worried about you when we heard about the earthquake in Japan. I hope you were alright,” Leslie asked with concern on her normally bright face. “Oh yes . . . I was alright . . . ” Matthew hesitated. How had she heard about the earthquake? “The epicenter was in the northern part of the island. Is Jane in her office?” Leslie waited a second as if for more information, then said, “Yes, Jane is in.” Matthew thanked her and strode along the short hallway until he came to an open door with a little plaque on it reading: Jane Cunningham, Secretary and Typist. Matthew knocked lightly. Jane glanced up from her work and beckoned him inside. “I’ll be with you in a second, sir.” Jane finished typing a sentence and then greeted Matthew: “Hello, Mr. Stevens.” Matthew said hello and handed her the brown envelope. “I’ll type it up straight away and get it to Mrs. Smith for tomorrow’s edition. How was Japan?” “Wonderful,” Matthew replied without further explanation. “It must have been amazing!” Jane prompted, but when she didn’t get any details, she moved on. “Mrs. Smith is out at the moment, but she left a message. You’re to go to France next. It has been a long time. Four years, wasn’t it? Such a beautiful and romantic place,” Jane ended dreamily, her eyes a little out of focus. “Yes, France is a popular holiday destination. I like going there myself. I’ll see you when I get back,” Matthew answered quickly. “Make sure you come back with a lovely story to tell.” Back outside, Matthew adjusted his briefcase and started down the narrow alleyway next to the office. At the end of the alleyway, he turned right onto a quaint street with trees lining the sidewalks and tulips in every garden; their petals faded in the twilight. At number 29, he took the steps up to a burgundy door two at a time. He hoped dinner would be ready. He rapped four times and then went to the kitchen window and tapped. A woman with his green eyes and brown hair glanced up at him and grinned, her eyes crinkling. She left the counter, leaving a man in the kitchen, and after a few seconds the front door opened. “Matthew! You’re a bit late!” She laughed. “I know, sorry. I had to stop by the office.” They hugged, and Matthew followed her inside and placed his briefcase by the shoe rack. He took a deep breath in of spicy coconut coming from the kitchen. “How are you, Gabrielle?” “I’m well. And you?” “Very well, but starving. Are you cooking curry?” “Arthur’s making his famous spicy masala.” They walked into the kitchen, but before Matthew could say hello to his brother-in-law, a flash of long flowing black hair, blue eyes, and small arms flew into his embrace. “Matthew!!!” Matthew hoisted the girl onto his lap
April 2019
Editor’s Note
It’s spring! The season of blooming flowers, blue skies, and baby birds cheeping in their nests. So, in this issue, in honor of spring, I wanted to celebrate the visual in all of its mediums. In addition to the romantic Parisian painting, with its dreamy golds, pinks, and blues, that graces our cover, this issue features: a painting with a paper boat literally pulling the piece into three dimensions; a painted figurine that includes an ancient Chinese poem about spring; a portfolio of stylistically bold, bright landscapes; and a traditional paper collage with a dark twist. The quality and variety of the art submissions we receive and publish in Stone Soup never ceases to amaze me; I hope you will leave this issue inspired not only by the writing but by the visual art—in all of its forms. Enjoy the April showers!