The Twelve Days of Christmas do not exist in Japan.  The gigantic tree outside of the grocery store mysteriously vanished, leaving nothing in its wake, not even a forgotten bauble or piece of tinsel.  Everywhere sports New Year slogans and bits of twisted rope and special leaves one can use to decorate one’s altar for the next holiday.

Our tree remains bravely decorated, mostly due to the lack of free time of the chatelaine…being me.  And more’s the pity, because these fine sunny days in early winter are the only times I like to bask in the weak and watery rays.  On Boxing Day, we managed to make it out of Tokyo to Enoshima Island, where across the Bay one could get a fine look at Mount Fuji and and by navigating a few stairs, a lovely ocean view.

The park where I took this photograph is on the island and I like to imagine sometimes that I might live on it, or really, any small island, and get to know all of its nooks and crannies.  The island has some sort of association with a dragon (which no doubt will increase its popularity once the new year arrives) who married a princess—the bell is dedicated to their love and if one should happen to ring it, it is extraordinary loud and stuns the participants briefly, who can only stagger away dazed, the woman of the party usually murmuring a faint ‘sumimasen’.

On a previous visit to this park, K. and I both separately thought we spied something large and white in the trees near the margins of the land, perhaps like a tall statue.  I got the impression of something like a Taoist sage in long robes.  I had taken some photographs near the bell and then wandered over to where I had imagined the statue to be, only to find there was absolutely nothing in the landscape to give that impression.  It was most perplexing and a little eerie.  This time it was quiet and serene, save the punctuated clanging from those brave enough to risk tangling with the bell; perhaps the dragon is now happy as his year has come around again.