Rambling rurally

Near the lodgings of myself and Sir S abounds charming countryside which is most suited for brisk walks or perambulations on a bicycle. One recent sunny spring day, Sir S and I packed our bicycle baskets with bento lunches and sallied forth along winding paths into the nearby hills and farming district. Like ships seeking the steady beam of a lighthouse, we struck out in the direction of the pink wisps of cherry blossom that clung to the hillsides, in search of a prime picnicking spot. After a deviation or three at shrines and rice paddies, we found a pleasant spot under a blossom tree overlooking vegetable fields, where a woman hacked at cabbagepatches with a curious scythe-like instrument and donned a matronly bonnet of white frills and ribbons. Here the cherry tree dolefully cast its final petals over our picnic and the nearby fields, and each one like loose confetti was caught and glowed beautifully in the rays of the afternoon sun.