The students at Issoan were invited to Shoburo at the East West Chanoyu Center in Seattle Washington. Bonnie Mitchell sensei is my sensei and I wanted my students to meet her. 5 students traveled from Portland to the Japanese Cultural and Community Center of Washington where the East West Chanoyu Center has it Zuishin’an tea room. It is a lovely space with an 8 mat room and a 4 1/2 mat room using the materials from Lynn Moser’s tea room.
We were treated to koicha made by Bonnie sensei herself and then our group got to do kagetsu in the 8 mat room. For me it was an opportunity to see old friends, as I used to study in Seattle, as well as meet many of the enthusiastic tea students.
I am sorry I do not have photos from the gathering. I was too excited to talk with Bonnie sensei and participate in kagetsu that I forgot about taking photos.
After the chakai we went to the Panama hotel for lunch and spent the afternoon at New Century Tea Gallery tasting Chinese teas in the international district.
We were also invited to celebrate Shoburo by Christopher Ezzell at the Tea House of the Winter Moon on Vashon Island. We got up early and took the ferry to Vashon. We got a lot of strange looks wearing kimono on the ferry.
We spent a lovely time admiring the beautiful tea house built of native woods by John Burke. There is also an exquisite tea garden and koshikake machiai, or waiting bench.
Christopher was a cordial host, with luxurious tea sweets made by Tokara. Afterwards, we did a little shopping at gift shop with many Japanese themed gifts and ate lunch before taking the ferry and heading back home.
Kagetsu is one of the ensemble tea exercises (games) where 5 people make and drink 4 bowls of tea. Cards or fuda are drawn from a pouch called an orisue to determine who makes tea and who drinks tea. Ka, or flower makes tea, and getsu or moon drinks tea. There are many rules of how to do this and it emphasizes teamwork and footwork. Often kagetsu will be done at Tankokai events.
There are many types of kagetsu. Sumi tsuki kagetsu where the sumi is laid and thee bowls of usucha are made. Koicha tsuki kagetsu where the host makes koicha for everyone and also drinks as the last guest and then three bowls of usucha are made. Koh tsuki kagetsu where everyone listens to incense, writes a short poem and three bowls of usucha are made. There are many other types of kagetsu.
Beginners to kagetsu are often totally confused. The rules seem arbitray, and they say that after doing kagetsu 100 times, it becomes clear as the misty moon. Once you get the hang of it however, kagetsu can be addicting. We did kagetsu every other Friday when I was at Midorikai and I have come to love it.
A year ago we started a monthly kagetsu class, and the students are becoming more proficient. It has become more enjoyable as we have become more familiar with the form, the rules, and how the sequences flow. We have been doing hira kagetsu, the most basic form, but this coming year we will attempt more complicated forms. If you have a chance to do kagetsu, please try it!
It is truly spring here in the Pacific Northwest. I have been planting flowers for chabana in my garden for about three years. This year, I am quite happy to say I have been able to pick chabana from my garden every week for okeiko without stealing from my neighbor’s yards.
I used to be driving around and stop and pick flowers by the side of the road or in shopping parking lots, or on the side of industrial parks. I also picked flowers from the sidewalk or in the suburban wilderness park near my home. I still look for flowers in all of these places, but I am enjoying the blooms much closer to home.
The Portland International Tea Gathering will take place October 15-20, 2025 in Portland, Oregon, USA.
For those making travel plans, we have reserved a discount block of rooms at the Cedar Tree Hotel, the site of the Tea Gathering. The link can be found here.
We are working to finalize the program, booking speakers and events. We have confirmed Thursday October 16 for the Welcome Chakai and Banquet. Friday October 17 is confirmed for our day at the Portland Japanese Garden.
There will be a tea bowl exchange, so please consider bringing a tea bowl to exchange with your fellow chajin. More details will be coming.
When we have the program finalized, we will be sending out the registration information. Please register as soon as you can as we will limit the participation to 40 members.
In the winter the year I lived in Japan, people talked about plum blossoms. I was confused because I had heard that Japan was all about the sakura, cherry blossoms. But I remember walking to school in the cold, going to class in the cold, coming home in the cold and trying to stay warm through the night. One day on my way to school an old gnarly tree began to sprout buds, and the next day the flowers had spilled across the branches.
The fragrance was heavenly and I nearly cried, because it was a sign that the cold winter was surely coming to an end and spring was coming. This made me finally understand why the Japanese people love the plum blossoms. They normally bloom in February, the coldest month in Japan. You often see images of plum blossoms in the snow. They are usually the first flowers to appear and symbolize perseverance in face of harsh conditions. And the promise of spring — the end of winter and better days to come.
There are many, many references to ume or plum in the Japanese literature. One of my favorites:
梅一輪 一輪ほどの暖かさ
Ume ichirin, ichirin hodo no atatakasa
A single plum blossom, warmth as warm as a single ume flower
~Hattori Ransetsu
Along with the ume, one of the first heralds of spring is the uguisu, Japanese bush warbler. Often you will find images and poems of ume ni uguisu, plum and bush warblers together. I love this story about the ume tree and uguisu:
In the Heian period, a plum tree in the palace died. The emperor ordered to find a plum tree as beautiful as the died one, and people found the most suitable one at Kino Tsurayuki‘s (紀貫之, a poet of the Heian period) residence to transfer to the palace. However, the emperor found a piece of Tanzaku (短冊, rectangle paper) attached to the tree, on which a sad tanka (短歌, Japanese poem) written on it.
It was Kino Tsurayuki‘s daughter who wrote the sad poem which expresses how much she loved the tree and how sad she was to say good bye to the tree. The Tanka‘s overall translation is: I cannot refuse to offer this tree because it is the emperor’s order. However, how can I reply to the Uguisu (鶯, nightingale) bird in the tree when it comes back and asks me where her tree is. Reading the Tanka, the emperor realized his own selfishness and returned the tree to Kino Tsurayuki.
I have never actually seen the uguisu, but I have heard their sweet song. After I moved back to Portland, my husband and I were out walking in the suburban wilderness, and I was sure that I heard an uguisu. It turned out that what I heard was a Western Meadowlark, the state bird of Oregon.
In the tea room, we have the dairo, the large winter hearth with the large mouth kettle to add warmth to the room. It comes with a price as the dairo is gyakugatte or from the opposite hand. Guests are on the left rather than on the right. Your footwork is opposite as you enter on the left, and exit with the right.
Not every move is the complete opposite so the temae can be confusing as to which hand puts things in what place. It is a temae that cannot be done on autopilot and even my body gets confused. It makes me feel like a beginner again and I have to pay attention to what I am doing without overthinking it.
In February we also have the tsutsu (cylinder) winter chawan. Those taller narrower bowls that hold the heat in when you serve your guests a bowl of tea. It is wonderful to linger a little drinking your tea to savor the warmth, especially in a cold room. One of my earliest memories of tea is sitting in the Portland Japanese Garden tea house, and it was snowing. It was just the host and me, and he had opened all the windows and doors so we had a panoramic view of the tea garden. We sat in the shelter of the tea room cold enough to see our breath, but holding on to hot tea in the shelter of the tea house and watched the garden filling with big fluffy flakes of snow.
