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I have written before about the art of looking at things through Japanese eyes, the pleasure at blocking out the world at large and concentrating on things rarely noticed. And so, today, I am writing a photo essay of things that would otherwise not be seen.
I took the girls for a short walk to the ski lift this morning. Having been to the shops first thing, I thought it only right to get them out and into the woods.
The woods were delightfully devoid of other humans for a lot of the walk.
There had been a very slight bit of rain, dampening everything, making some bits of the woods quite smooshy. The temperature was almost mild. The wet undergrowth was delightfully odorous.
I felt like we were the only creatures abroad today.
As we reached the ski lift, we met a couple with a baby in a stroller and two little dogs. Emma was very interested and went to say hello while Freya struggled to complete going to the toilet. One would think this was because of her current affliction, but no, it is embarrassingly normal.
Then, finally, we reached the rain speckled ski lift.
Later in the day, while Mirinda took Emma for a longer, proper walk, I was talking to a Nordic pole wielding man on the street who asked me if the path down to the ski lift was open yet. This is the one up the road where a big trench has recently been dug. When I said that it was a sea of mud, I offered him our back gate and my new bridge, to save him a walk.
The man picked my accent as being Australian. He said his wife spent two years in Australia. I have no idea how that fact would give him the ability to tell where my accent was from.
I am always amazed when people pick my accent because I think, if anything, I sound English. And my wife spent a lot longer than two years in Australia.
