“If only I could show them to someone who knows,
This moon, these flowers, this night that should not be wasted.”
~”The Tale of Genji”
Last year’s harvest moon viewing expedition to Sankeien Garden with Annika, Mary and Peyton ranked high in our assessment of atmospheric Japanese memories; a success in spite of the complete lack of actual moon viewing. The first cool front of the year rolled through, the autumnal equinox aligned with the full moon, and it was just a short time until we would see our long-deployed husbands again in their next port of call. 
All summer I’d hoped the bean would cooperate so I could show Chris the lovely, moon-lit garden this year. Imagine my delight when the harvest moon viewing fell on my birthday! After a nice morning at church and a long nap, Chris and I arrived at Sankeien Garden just as the moon rose over the treetops. I ordered the same shiitake udon I remembered from last year; Chris had hot soba. Then we walked through the darkened inner garden as strains of traditional Japanese music pierced the sultry night air. We found seats along the tea house wall and watched Shinto Kagura Dance Urayasu against a backdrop of the full moon rising over the oldest pagoda on the Kanto Plain. A spider strung her web between tall bamboo stalks; she feasted all night.
Last year’s harvest moon viewing expedition to Sankeien Garden with Annika, Mary and Peyton ranked high in our assessment of atmospheric Japanese memories; a success in spite of the complete lack of actual moon viewing. The first cool front of the year rolled through, the autumnal equinox aligned with the full moon, and it was just a short time until we would see our long-deployed husbands again in their next port of call. 
All summer I’d hoped the bean would cooperate so I could show Chris the lovely, moon-lit garden this year. Imagine my delight when the harvest moon viewing fell on my birthday! After a nice morning at church and a long nap, Chris and I arrived at Sankeien Garden just as the moon rose over the treetops. I ordered the same shiitake udon I remembered from last year; Chris had hot soba. Then we walked through the darkened inner garden as strains of traditional Japanese music pierced the sultry night air. We found seats along the tea house wall and watched Shinto Kagura Dance Urayasu against a backdrop of the full moon rising over the oldest pagoda on the Kanto Plain. A spider strung her web between tall bamboo stalks; she feasted all night.