snow muffles the stones

snow muffles the stones

while the taki falls free, always 

changing, always there

We wander through a lovely garden behind a large hotel in Oshino, a popular place for weddings in the summer. Now it is quiet and empty. Thick snow muffles the stones and plants like kakebuton stuffed with mulberry silk. The water in the taki murmurs in a primordial tongue as it drops between the boulders overhung with holly and cedar. The large bamboo hishaku resting on the edge of a small pool is an invitation to bend down, wash the hands and rinse the mouth, as one would do before entering a tea house or shrine. However, the coins lining the bottom of the pool signal that this is more of a wishing well than a formal tsukubai. When I sit and listen to the waterfall running freely in the midst of winter over the silver and copper coins, it seems to be ceaselessly babbling, "permanent, impermanent, permanent, impermanent."

down from Birethanti

down from Birethanti

along the Modi Khola –

blue bowl with brown eggs 

On the last day of our trek we walk down from the Annapurna mountains to Birethanti, along the beautiful Modi Khola. While we wait for our taxi, we sit in the shade of a little tea house. On the table, this blue bowl with brown eggs. Annapurna means “full of food.” This bowl of eggs says it all, the blue sky over the mountains, the brown faces of the children we passed on the trail, the ubiquitous meals of dahl bhat and the mountains themselves, food for the soul.