miscellaneous small pleasures and treasures

[asakiyume]

On my walk this morning I was thinking how on a walk some days ago, I'd found a robin eggshell. I looked down and found a cardinal eggshell. Further along on the walk I found a luna moth wing: it was a morning for sweet finds.



In the evening, as the sun was setting and streetlamps were lighting up, a cardinal came and perched on one. From newly hatched to adult in one day.

Later in the evening, when it was quite dark, I went to pick some cilantro, and the first firefly of the season was in the cilantro patch, lighting up the underside of the cilantro leaves--and he paid my hand a visit, too.

Earlier in the day, some kids were playing soccer on the common, and one of them was wearing a Brazilian flag as a cloak. I had only my cell phone to take a picture with, but:


Viva Brasil!

I guess we know who he's rooting for in the World Cup!

I am writing a little something with bridges in it, and almost every day I walk along a bridge, and as I walk, I think about bridge folktales--mainly bridge battles: the three billy goats and the troll, Robin Hood and Little John, Benke and Yoshitsune. Can you think of any more bridge battles in folktales or legend?


Benke meets Yoshitsune on Gojô Bridge, by Utagawa Kuniyoshi (Source)

Comments

[shewhomust.livejournal.com]

So you did! Whereas I was thinking of Bridge of Dreams (http://www.chazbrenchley.co.uk/sellingwater/bridge.html)...

[asakiyume.livejournal.com]

Yes, I was going to mention other phrases, like floating bridge of dreams, or bridge of heaven (which actually comes into the thing I'm writing), but I ended up sticking to the bridge battles instead :-)

[shewhomust.livejournal.com]

As you may infer from Chaz'z response, his dreams are not untroubled...

[asakiyume.livejournal.com]

*nodding*

[desperance.livejournal.com]

Heh. That, too. Bridges are like boats: they're liminal, transitionary, borderline by definition. No wonder I like them. And find them scary. Bridges over water: always very difficult to cross, when I was a kid. Which is unfortunate, when you live in Oxford.

[asakiyume.livejournal.com]

Which is unfortunate, when you live in Oxford.

Hahaha! So my husband tells me!

Bridges are like boats: they're liminal, transitionary, borderline by definition. No wonder I like them.

Me toooooooo!

And find them scary

I only find them a *little* scary (a good amount of scary, if you will).

[desperance.livejournal.com]

I only find them a *little* scary (a good amount of scary, if you will).

Me too these days now. I'm all "Oh, I remember how much this used to scare me; and yup, I can still feel it deep down," but it's a feeling I have to reach for. As a kid, though? It was right there, in my heart in my mouth. I had little rituals, like switching anything I carried to the inside, to make it less likely that I'd suddenly hurl it over the parapet in propitiation. If the bridge went over a weir, that was really really hard to walk across; I would stall and stall.

[cafenowhere.livejournal.com]

switching anything I carried to the inside, to make it less likely that I'd suddenly hurl it over the parapet in propitiation.

This is so endearing--tho of course I'm sorry for your childhood panic. Antonio Damasio has a similar story about dreading a factory steamwhistle that always sounded as he was walking to school.

My problem with bridges as a young person? I was never quite sure I wouldn't jump. Death wish, I suppose.

[asakiyume.livejournal.com]

I was never quite sure I wouldn't jump.

I felt that way about cliff faces and high places--although it was more that I thought I'd have some baroquely freakish incident of clumsiness and bad luck and fall, not so much that I thought I'd jump, I think.

[cafenowhere.livejournal.com]

baroquely freakish incident of clumsiness

That's more how I felt at the Grand Canyon last year, and by extension, how I felt for every dumbass young person who got too close (imo) to the edge. Also, love your phrasing there.

[desperance.livejournal.com]

My problem with bridges as a young person? I was never quite sure I wouldn't jump. Death wish, I suppose.

Oh, that too. I think the actively-trying-not-to-hurl-things-I-valued-over-the-parapet was a scaled-down version of being afraid I might want to hurl myself. Weird how that's such a lure, when you're scared of heights and scared of water.

[cafenowhere.livejournal.com]

a scaled-down version of being afraid I might want to hurl myself.

Oh! Very astute. Sometimes the urge to jump must be a delirious attempt to end the overwhelming tension. Such a mingling of emotions...

[asakiyume.livejournal.com]

I like that protective measure!

The only time I was seriously scared of a bridge was the bridge that we drove over for a while to get to a ballet lesson. Four of us students would crowd into a Volkswagen Beetle, driven by the teacher, who was taking us to this private school where she taught. One lucky person sat up front with the teacher, but the remaining three of us were jammed in back. The car had to go over this high bridge over the Hudson river. I was always afraid it would get blown off.

[cafenowhere.livejournal.com]

That reminds me of the wild ride in the mother's car in Ponyo, before the storm. Actually, any ride w/that mom was kinda wild, wasn't it? I don't think she was a good driver.

The car had to go over this high bridge over the Hudson river. I was always afraid it would get blown off.

And your teacher, did she have any idea? Adults can be so oblivious! ;)

[asakiyume.livejournal.com]

If she did, she certainly never let on!