Henry here with a guest post. I am sitting on the doggie futon in this picture.
Here I am playing with a Halloween toy, doesn’t the futon look okay?
Well Mom caught me pulling some stuffing from the doggie futon.
She said I was a warui kozo, a bad stinker or brat. I tried to tell her that the Futon Yokai was possessing me but she would have none of it.
The Futon Yokai is incredibly clever. It has possession of the doggie futon and is enjoying tormenting me. You would think it would want to protect itself. But no, it is also a warui kozo and even if I shred the doggie futon to oblivion and it loses its home it is happy if it gets me in trouble.
Bad bad Futon Yokai, I hope Mom can feel its presence soon so she’ll understand what is going on…. You believe me don’t you?
Takayama, Japan has been Denver’s Sister City Takayama since 1960. The Takayama Women’s Chorale is singing at Simpson United Methodist Church Friday, August 11, 2017 at 4:30 pm. The Chorale will be performing traditional Japanese songs. The performance is free. For more information please contact Kaitlyn Lyle at 303.923.6865. Simpson is located at 6001 Wolff Street in Arvada. Want to learn about Takayama? Visit the city’s website here: City of Takayama website (English version): http://www.hida.jp/english/
Growing up it was a contest between me and my brother who could be the biggest monkutare!!
Well he won this contest. Maybe being the baby of the family gave him extra monku powers, but he sure was cute! Mom and dad couldn’t stay annoyed with him for too long. Me and our sister Kris? We pretended to stay annoyed.
Got to get this surprise box in the mail to him 🐒🐵
Some of the surprise I didn’t include in the picture in case he reads this post 🙊🙈
The beast leaned into him, huffing it’s warm breath over his cheek. He leaned into the beast, taking in the sweet musty smell of the animal. The smell of tea shrubs and fragrant white flowers.
Alone he had removed the rocks and debris from the field. Raked the earth smooth until it was finally ready for the beast.
The beast stepped forward, it’s great hoof covering his bare foot. The sharp sound of bones breaking and the intense pain lifted his spirits. A sign that it was time to begin.
Stepping into the field the beast followed him. The hooves of this son and grandson of great Samurai warrior horses left deep indentations as he followed the limping monk back and forth across the field. Finally the field appeared as though filled with gentle waves of the ocean coming into high tide. The beast nodded it’s head as if to bow to the monk sensing it’s duty was done.
A simple meal of boiled millet and pickled vegetables was eaten with the hashi (chopsticks) he kept in his sleeve. Tying the hashi together with a small length of red silk cord from the beast’s armor he was ready for the next task.
Into the middle of each hoof print he pushed his hashi into the earth. Into that hole he dropped one tea seed. Covering each seed with the rich soil he moved to the next hoof print and continued until the entire field was planted.
In the fall of the third year the plants were shoulder height. The monk knew the first harvest would occur the coming spring. The monk also knew that harvest would produce the finest tea, honcha, the real tea. Those worthy of this scarce treasure, and who could afford the cost, would enjoy a tea ceremony attaining ultimate understanding, good fortune and good health.
As the monk limped through the field he allowed simple pleasures to fill his heart, taking in the familiar musty smell of tea shrubs and white fragrant flowers and the great beast.