The next day I awoke at Koki and Ayako’s house in Hayama (on the closest beach coast to Tokyo) to sunshine and soft breezes. My friends were both gone for the day, so I took a little walk by myself. I had new Turkish kilim shoes with Italian soles, and a new skirt (a birthday gift from Sachiho, made of ultra-comfortable hemp and cotton jersey by a company called Little Eagle), and I felt pretty spiffy, so off I went…
…down the steep street at the top of which Koki and Ayako live.
The coastline of Hayama, with its volcanic, green hills and luxurious homes.
I walked down to Standing Stone Park again. This time Mount Fuji was not visible on the horizon, but the Stone has an undeniable drama to it. A beach with an erection.
A plein air painter worked in the park that day. I turned to see what she was depicting.
Yes, I think I might choose this view, too, if I were into making oil paintings of landscapes.
However, for reasons I can’t fathom, when I go to Japan, I want to photograph the man hole covers.
All of them. One of each.
Even rusty ones.
But Hayama definitely has a sense of place. One homeowner painted the Standing Stone onto his garage door, including a full frontal of Mount Fuji, with snow.