reading,
listening to birds
the gurgling of water,
looking up to watch
four hummingbirds challenge
each other at the feeder, and
I notice I’m surrounded by flowers
and the scent of orange blossoms.



As a person who works with high school students mostly non-white, many of whom have family members who are undocumented, I worry and need to find daily delights to stay sane. I decided to make a list of some of the past week’s delights:
-afternoons 70 degrees, sunny, no wind
-hummingbirds sipping nectar from both flowers and the two feeders
-singing a song the lyrics of which come from a poem by Langston Hughes where he dreams a world with no racism
-sitting on the back patio, listening to birdsong while I read a book about delights
-learning that all the rains have eliminated drought in California
-appreciating all the colors of the flowers blooming in my yard

A garden of delights
my my new goal.
Why do I/we need
such a garden?
Sanity, yours and mine.
Genocide in Gaza, Sudan,
eastern Congo, probably
even in other places where
there’s no news.
Poverty here in the richest
nation on Earth.
Poverty my neighbor seems
shocked when I tell her.
People living in condemned
trailers, no heat, no water–
It’s freezing inside.
People surviving, barely.
Malnourished children, big
hungry eyes, staring.
A garden of delights
my new goal.
Why do I/we need
such a garden?
Masked men and some women
attacking people in the streets,
in their homes,
knocking down doors.
smashing windows.
You’d think I’m describing
Russia, Nazi Germany
but no, I’m describing
happenings in my own
county and
across the US.
A garden of delights
my new goal.
Sanity = Delights
I look out my window
purple mountains loom
in crystalline air.
Recent rains create
emerald hills,
blooming freeway daisies,
roses in my garden,
pink, sunset colors, snow.
Bougainvillea the color of blood
climbs my garden wall.
The turquoise fountain gurgles.
Photo of daughter and grandson
make me smile.
Symbols, sacred corn grace
walls and make me
remember cornfields in summer
when on a hot day
I could hear corn grow.
Three different pine trees whisper,
the Soleri bell rings in wind.
Ah, yes, I live in a garden,
a garden of delights.
And I remain sane
for at least one
more day.

This is the novel that shocked him by selling over a million copies and made him famous. It is the story of Toru, a young college student, whose two best friends from childhood change his life. One, his best male friend, commits suicide unexpectedly. Afterwards, the other friend, Naoko, a beautiful and mentally fragile young woman, and Toru spend their weekends just walking together all over Tokyo. As her mental health deteriorates, he increasingly falls in love with her and tries to help. Meanwhile, as Naoko becomes mentally more unstable, he meets another young woman, Midori, who is adventuresome, outgoing, and mentally stable. He does not want to give up on Naoko but is also drawn to Midori with whom he attends college.
The novel is written from the viewpoint of Toru. He tells not just about these women but also his very eccentric roommate at a dormitory and his friend, Nagasawa, who is very smart and disciplined but also quite immoral by Toru’s standards. Although the novel takes place in a Japan of several decades ago, Toru’s narrative and life seem quite modern and realistic.
One thing a reader from the US might notice is that all the characters go everywhere using public transportation. No cars are ever mentioned. Since several of the characters commit suicide, I decided to research the suicide rate in Japan. For decades the suicide rate of young people in Japan has been quite high and continues to be a concern there.
Although I am many decades older than all the main characters, I could not stop reading. This is a meaningful, very well written novel which I highly recommend. It is my second Murakami novel recently and I will read more.
Note: The version I read has the author’s notes from 2023 which are very informative and interesting. He apparently has to leave his home in Japan and go elsewhere, e.g. Greece, to write.

This is my first Murakami novel; it will not be my last. It’s fascinating and profound. A 15 year old boy, Kafka, runs away from home. His mother and older sister disappeared when he was four. He does not remember them. His father, a famous sculptor, ignores him. Although they live in the same house, they rarely see each other. After running away, he finds a private (but open to the public) library in another city and is taken in by the two people in charge of the library.
Nakata, another main character who is an elderly man, is not very bright due to a bizarre event that sent him to the hospital in a coma when he was a child. He talks to cats and makes fish and eel fall from the sky like rain. He becomes friends with another principal character, a young truck driver, who helps him out because Nakata reminds him of his grandfather.
The novel portrays the lives of these characters through their actions, dreams, and fantastical events. The unreal becomes real and people learn about their true selves through these events.

Barbara Lewis Duke, pretty, petite, blue-eyed and blond, my
mother, one fearless, controlling woman. Long after Mom’s
death, Dad said, “Barbara was afraid of absolutely on one
and nothing.” They married late, 34 & 38. He adored her
unconditionally. She filled my life with horses, music, love,
cornfields, hay rides, books, and ambition. Whatever she felt she
had missed, my sister and I were going to possess: books,
piano lessons, a college education. Her father, who died long
before I was born, loved fancy, fast horses. So did she. During
my preschool, croupy years, she quieted my hysterical night
coughing with stories of run away horses pulling her in a wagon.
With less than one hundred pounds and lots of determination,
she stopped them, a tiny Barbie Doll flying across the Missouri
River Bottom, strong, willful, free.
Note: This was first published in an anthology and later in my poetry memoir, “On the Rim of Wonder.” My mom loved the color pink and roses, had a rose garden. In the summer there were always crystal bowls on the dining table with roses floating. Today I have roses floating in two stemmed crystal bowls in my kitchen.

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