Honesty compels me to tell you that a big reason for deciding to climb Mt. Hakkorei on April 23 (no, no, not to celebrate Shakespeare’s birthday) . . . was to check out how far along the shiroyashio leaves were coming—and to get a vague idea of how many weeks away the blossoms were.

There is nothing more beautiful than the yashio’s star-shaped leaves, green with red tips, nestling in those white blossoms, under a clear, deep blue sky.

On the 23rd, there were only a faint hint of the leaves opening up, and no sign of the flowers blossoming.

And then there was all that mist.

I love the mist—always have.

But I thought those two guys from Shizuoka Duo (yes, yes, they were there, too) might be disappointed. After all, the panoramic views disappear when the skies are grey.

But how wrong I was!

I don’t think I’d ever seen anyone so happy to be trapped inside the mist as we were—to have the range of our vision cut down so drastically.

It’s amazing how on a sunny day, you walk right past some of the most gorgeous stuff. But when you can’t look far and wide into an endless blue sky, well, you tend to look at things close up, or things at your feet.

I’d lagged behind a bit and then caught up, and when I did, I was so surprised to see those two Shizuoka Duo guys down on the ground, on their knees, their cameras in a patch of flowers—a species of flower I’d never noticed before.

And then for the rest of the hike, they were singing away, trying to figure out the lyrics and a melody for a new song—and dropping to their knees each time they came to a new discovery.

If they could stay in key—and that’s definitely a big if—I think I might actually like some of their stuff. What they were singing on this day, I  tried to imagine in my own head, in key, and yeah, I thought I kind of liked it.

Hangnail’s getting really bad.

Leaky faucets make you mad.

Car keys have got you in a search.

Boyfriend has left you in a lurch.

When the sky is cold and grey,

Scenic views all wash away.

Your shoulders slump, you hang your head.

You feel as if you’re standing dead.

Your eyes are glued upon the ground.

The bird of hope won’t make any sound.

You ask me how it got this way.

Here is all I have to say.

When your eyes are on the ground,

There really is so much to be found.

Walk the misty woods and see.

At tiny flowers fall to your knees.