Saturday, September 27, 2014

46. 雷乃収声: "The Thunder God Speaks"

(BGM: "The Sweetest Taboo" by Sade)

Shichijuni-kou (72 Seasons) Calendar Listing
仲秋, Chuju: "Mid-Autumn"
Season No. 16: 秋分, Shubun
"Autumnal Equinox"

"Biwako Squall" (Copyright 2012 Robynn. All Rights Reserved.

Climate No. 46: 雷乃収声
Kaminari Sunawachi Koe Wo Osamu
"The Thunder God Speaks"
(September 17 -September 21)

Weather fronts seem to have their own personalities, which makes me liken them to married couples who can't get along. Mr. Low gets on Mrs. High's nerves and the two squabble, turning a petty argument into all-out war. The sky cracks and grumbles as the conflict intensifies. Summer heat won't back down without a fight!

This sudden expansion of air creates terrifyingly beautiful mushroom clouds that swirl and boil thousands of feet into the atmosphere. As the sky darkens and temperatures plummet, walls of hard rain and bolts of electricity slam
down to the ground in violent release, like a ticked-off spouse stamping in frustration. But after a few moments, the anger dissipates and gentle warm rain flows -saltless tears of regret, forgiveness, restoring balance to the universe.

"All Better" (Hikone, Shiga 2012)

All this ruckus is too crazy to be the work of just one or two thunder gods with Explosive Anger Disorder. We hapless lifeforms on earth cower in the darkness and wait until it's okay to come out again. From a safe distance, my friends and I stare in awe, dumbfounded.

"Skyflare" (C) 2013 Robynn, All Rights Reserved.

Flower Of The Season: 彼岸花, Higanbana, Red Spider Lily (Lycoris radiata)

"Red Spider Lily" (Kiyomizudera Temple, Kyoto, 2012)

I never imagined I would live in a culture where flowers are segregated merely on the grounds of their symbolism, but here I am. Even after all this time, I'm still not comfortable with it.

One crisp, clear September afternoon during my first year in Japan, I was walking down the road with a co-worker and noticed some wispy, elegant red spider lilies growing straight and lovely beside our local shrine.

"How beautiful," I squealed, delighted to see such an exotic flower in the wild.

"You think those are beautiful? They're horrible flowers!" she retorted, with an expression of sheer disgust on her face.

"Horrible?!" I asked. "How can a flower be 'horrible?' People pay big money to put these in flower arrangements where I come from!"

My co-worker insisted on their repulsiveness and took a moment to educate me on their Buddhist-inspired association with blood and death. The way the crimson spider lilies uncannily shoot straight up on the very week of Ohigan (the autumnal equinox) after a hard rainfall without missing a beat was "gross" in her opinion, as if dead zombies were pushing up the blossoms with bloodied, half-decomposed hands.

Popular with the older generation who might've had a better, healthier grip on the reality of death, higanbana were planted on graves to respectfully commemorate those who had passed on. Ohigan is a sacred day for reflection and remembrance. We remember not only the dearly departed, but also the fact that we, too shall pass (both physically and hopefully, spiritually). The steadfast higanbana lines the path to "the other shore" (彼, hi="other," 岸, gan="shore"), showing souls the way through, which can also be a metaphor for detachment from this world of materialism and sorrow. How can flowers lining your walk to the shores of enlightenment be a bad thing?

Legend has it that if you walk with someone along a path lined with higanbana, you'll never see that person again. That was, strangely, the case with my co-worker. After that year, I never saw her again. I hope she's alright, but I also hope that she eventually loses her hatred for these flowers that have an awful lot of important lessons to teach us, should we dare to listen. Death isn't as scary as we think.

"Grave too move!
   My wailing voice
    Autumn wind."  -Matsuo Basho

A river of blood-red spider lily edges a soba field near Mt. Ibuki (Maibara, Shiga, 2012).

Taste Of The Season: 梨, Nashi, Asian Pear

Shopping for Asian pears in Sera, Hiroshima (2014)

Crisp, watery Asian pears are in season! These versatile apple-like fruits sell for nearly dirt cheap from Honshu on down the archipelago this time of year. It's time to stock up!

Peeling free pear samples at an orchard in Sera, Hiroshima (2014).

Whenever I buy a bag of nashi pears, I make a habit of putting them straight into the fridge for at least another week or two, where they can ripen to perfection. Properly ripened nashi pears are so sweet that the juice nearly fizzes on the tongue, a sensation reminiscent of champagne. Though the Koreans are more creative with this delectable fruit, mixing it in soups, sauces, even kimchi bases, the Japanese prefer the lush taste of the nashi as-is, simple and delicious.

Cut Asian pears, a warm cup of herb tea and a good book equals joy. :-)

Copyright 2014 Robynn. All rights reserved. No part of this blog (written or photo content) may be reproduced or reprinted without the expressed permission of the author.

Sunday, September 21, 2014

45. 玄鳥去: "Swallows Depart"

(BGM: Missing by Everything But The Girl)

Shichijuni-kou (72 Seasons) Calendar Listing
仲秋, Chuju: Mid-Autumn
Season No. 15: 白露, Hakuro
White Dew

Empty Nest Sydrome  (Mt. Noro, Hiroshima 2014)

Climate No. 45: 玄鳥去 
Tsubame Saru
Swallows Depart
(September 17 -September 21)

It might seem as if the swallows have all disappeared. Discarded basket sconces of mud and straw still cling to the undersides of roofs, abandoned and lonely. But this year's chicks haven't graduated from flight school just yet. They can still be spotted imitating their parents, making daredevil passes as close as possible around the buildings where they were born. These repeated passes help the swallows to memorize their nesting grounds before embarking upon their southward migration towards China and the Philippines.

I realize that the swallows' inevitable departure ushers in waves of incoming waterfowl returning from feeding grounds as far away as Alaska. That's a positive thing to look forward to. But seeing the swallows off always causes me to reflect on how I've survived yet another year. What is it about goodbyes that makes a heart really feel its age?

"This autumn, 
   Why am I aging so?
    To the clouds a bird."  -Matsuo Basho

Flower Of The Season: 鷺草, Sagisou, White Egret Orchid

A sagisou for sale at our local flower shop (Hiroshima Prefecture, 2014).

Here's something totally different: a flower that looks like a bird!

A flock of sagiso fluttering around a neighborhood doorstep (Matsue City, Shimane, 2014)

Floating suspended in flight like tiny frozen angels, the dainty sagiso (Pecteilis radiata, syn. Habenaria radiata) resembles its namesake (snowy egret) to a tee. Listed as endangered, sagiso were once common in Japan's many marshes and wetlands but shrank in numbers due to habitat loss. Today, nearly all the sagiso you'll encounter in Japan come from cultivated bulbs. (Botanyboy gives the low-down on how to care for your very own sagiso  here).

Just when I learn about these awe-inspiring lifeforms, I find out that our planet might not have them around for much longer. May this fascinating flower experience a revival in the near future.

Taste Of The Season: イチジク, Ichijiku, Fig

Ichijiku (figs) with just a few more seconds left to "live."

Japan's subtropical climate is ideal for fig cultivation and every fall, these relatively inexpensive, sumptuous fruits explode both on the market and in the mouths of millions of happy people.

I usually devour them raw: After carefully peeling off the thin outer skin, I mercilessly rip open the flesh with bare claws and dig into it like a hunger-blind macaque. The seeds pop pleasingly between the teeth and the slippery, stringy pulp tears off easily with the tongue. Ichijiku's exotic texture and delicate sweetness make this nutrient-dense fruit an ideal addition to a morning menu. Savoring a fresh, ripe ichijiku fig is definitely one of the more sensual pleasures of autumn that brings out my inner animal.

Mine! I'm not sharing! :-)

Critter Of The Season: 羽黒蜻蛉, Hagerotombo, Calopteryx atrata Damselfly

A trusting female hagerotombo on my finger near Ryuosan Spring (Higashi Hiroshima, 2013).

Unlike their dragonfly cousins who zoom for long distances up high in the open air, hagerotombo damselflies gracefully flit much lower to the ground, never far from a running source of fresh water. Their lilting, free-falling flight brings to mind butterflies and spiraling maple seeds in the wind. Damselflies appear slow to the eye, yet are surprisingly difficult to catch. (It's much better to coax them into perching willingly on your finger with a gentle forward approach. Less trauma for them).

A striking black-winged hagerotombo (Calopteryx atrata) damselfly (Maibara, Shiga 2011).

What fascinates me more than anything about this particular insect is the freakishly odd, hypnotizing power it possesses over me. Whenever a hagerotombo male slowly, teasingly spreads open its wings and then suddenly slaps them closed again, my heart literally (I'm not exaggerating!) skips a beat. I'm helplessly drawn to it, watching in suspense like a cat following a ball of yarn. An insect that can cause arrhythmia without biting or stinging is one for the books, indeed! I had plenty of toys as a child and being an adult, I should have more control over my faculties, I know. But these elusive, taunting creatures always tempt me into trying to chase them. Why they pick on me, I don't know. Nature is like that, sometimes.

Two pairs of mated hagerotombo strategizing their egg-laying plan (Hiroshima Prefecture).

Copyright 2014 Robynn. All rights reserved. No part of this blog (written or photo content) may be reproduced or reprinted without the expressed permission of the author.

Tuesday, September 16, 2014

44. 鶺鴒鳴: "Wagtails Sing"

(BGM: "Big Brown Eyes" by Malia)

Shichijuni-kou (72 Seasons) Calendar Listing
仲秋, Chuju: "Mid-Autumn"
Season No. 15: 白露, Hakuro
"White Dew"

A fearless wagtail in parental mode staring me down (Fujishiro, Ibaraki, 2005).

Climate No. 44: 鶺鴒鳴
Sekirei Naku
"Wagtails Sing"
(September 12 -September 16)

A wagtail searches for material to build a nest in my kitchen fan vent (Hikone, Shiga, 2011).

I love these birds! I can't help but fly open my windows and let the sound flood in when they start serenading me from an adjacent rooftop. My smartphone audio recorder is literally bursting this month with file after file of wagtail clips! Capable of different melodies from high-pitched peeps and whistles to heartwarming trills, these endearing, gabby little birds with bobbing butts compete to sing the sun down as if auditioning for "Japan's Got Talent."

During the day, wagtails (鶺鴒, sekirei) skittle on lightning-speed legs across parking lots and driveways, oblivious to the dangers of the human world, scouring the asphalt for food and fun. Playing hide-and-seek with their mates between parked cars and river rocks, wagtails have a sense of humor! On several occasions, they've even approached me in curiosity, just standing there cocking their cute 8-ball heads, checking me out. The unpredictable behavior of the sekirei has helped me understand that there's much more sentience in the bird world than we give them credit for.

Three tenors (wagtail chicks) warming up their pipes (Fujishiro, Ibaraki, 2005).

Flower Of The Season: 鶏頭, Keitou, Cockscomb (Celosia)

A fuzzy Celosia cristata (Shobara, Hiroshima, 2014).

   With geese arriving,
      Now deeper crimson."  -Matsuo Basho

Pretty plumes of Celosia plumosa (Shobara, Hiroshima, 2014).

Critters Of The Season: 黄金蜘蛛科の蜘蛛, Orb-Web Spiders

No discussion about the garden paradise that is Japan would be complete without mention of its highly-regarded caretakers: the spiders. Now that the surrounding vegetation is half withered, the master weaver orb-web spiders grow ever more conspicuous, dangling above and below, waiting for fresh kill. Listed are two species that I see on a daily basis:

The wasp spider (Argiope bruennichii) prefers to spin its snares waist-high (or lower) where the crickets and locusts jump, while the poisonous jorou spider (Nephila clevata) weaves shimmering golden webs between trees and shrubs (preferably in the canopy immediately overhead) to snag the big prey like dragonflies and beetles. Their intimidating size and alarming color patterns command respect, though neither species are considered lethal to humans.

長黄金蜘蛛, Nagakoganegumo, Wasp Spider (Argiope bruennichii)
A gigantic Argiope bruennichii (Tone, Ibaraki, 2005 )

女郎蜘蛛, Jorougumo, Jorou Spider (Nephila clavata)

A well-fed Nephila clavata rests on her web of legendary golden silk (Mashiko, Tochigi, 2009).

Copyright 2014 Genkilee, Gen. All rights reserved. No part of this blog (written or photo content) may be reproduced or reprinted without the expressed permission of the author.

Thursday, September 11, 2014

43. 草露白: "Grasses White With Dew"

(BGM: "Colors Of The Wind" by Vanessa Williams)

Morning dew christens blades of ripening rice (Hiroshima Prefecture).
Shichijuni-kou (72 Seasons) Calendar Listing
仲秋, Chuju: "Mid-Autumn"
Season No. 15: 白露, Hakuro
"White Dew"

Morning windshield art.
Climate No. 43: 草露白
Kusa No Tsuyu Shirushi
"Grasses White With Dew"
(September 7 -September 11)

Morning walks are so sensuous this time of year! The contrast of hot and cold is stark and defined. Protected from the chill breeze with a freshly-laundered pullover, I head up into the mountains with bamboo walking stick in hand. Sometimes I stray from the trail, dragging sandaled feet through dew-moistened grass, enjoying the sensation of foot pores drinking in tiny beads of pure water. The air circles lazy and sweet with an intoxicating blend of kudzu blossoms and cypress needles. Before the hot sun emerges from behind the still-sleeping mountains, burning off all of this delicious mist, I steal fleeting moments to savor this spontaneous garden of gossamer all around me. Autumn is truly here and instead of feeding my melancholy, she heals it. 

 "Bush clover flowers
    They sway but do not drop
       Their beads of dew ."   -Matsuo Basho

Flowers Of The Season: 秋の七草, Aki No Nanagusa,
"The Seven Flowers of Autumn"

The following seven flowers have been employed as motifs in Japanese art, kimono design, gardens, poetry and music for centuries, expressing varying moods and emotions associated with autumn. Aside from ominaeshi, which is sadly becoming increasingly rare, most of these former wildflowers can still be enjoyed today as cultivars in many Japanese front yards, parks and gardens.

I've been fortunate enough over the years to catch sight of nearly all of the Seven Flowers of Autumn. A few of these lovelies (like the bellflower and morning glory) begin blooming in early summer but somehow continue to push out their flowers long into the colder months. Since they hang around for so long, they begin to feel like companions after awhile. From this perspective, it's easy to understand the cultural staying power of these simple, yet elegant plants.

1. オミナエシ, Ominaeshi, Scabious patrinia

"Patrinia Scabiosifolia2" by Kempei (a Creative Commons photo via

2. 葛, Kuzu, Arrowroot (Pueraria lobata)

A sweet-smelling kudzu blossom adds charm to this parasitic plant (Maibara, Shiga).

3. ススキ, Susuki, Pampas Grass (Miscanthus sinensis)

Shimmering susuki rustling in September winds (Fujishiro, Ibaraki).

4. 桔梗, Kikyou, Bellflower (Platycodon grandiflorus)

A proud kikyou shows off her origami balloon children (Sankeien Gardens, Hiroshima).

5. ナデシコ, Nadeshiko, Pink (Dianthus)

A fragrant patch of nadeshiko clings to a stone wall (Maibara, Shiga).

6. 萩の花, Hagi No Hana, Bush Clover (Lespedeza)

A wall of hanging hagi bobs along the path to Sankeien Gardens near Hiroshima Int'l Airport.

7. フジバカマ, Fujibakama, Thoroughwort (Eupatorium purpureum)

A thirsty Chestnut Tiger butterfly laps up fujibakama nectar (Iwakuni, Yamaguchi Prefecture).
8. 朝顔, Asagao, Morning Glory (Ipomoea)
(The asagao is occasionally included in place of kikyou as one of the Seven Flowers of Autumn).

Morning dew dots a morning glory (Takehara, Hiroshima).

Copyright 2014 Genkilee, Gen. All rights reserved. No part of this blog (written or photo content) may be reproduced or reprinted without the expressed permission of the author.

Saturday, September 6, 2014

42. 禾乃登: "Grasses Go To Seed"

(BGM: Appelle Mon Numero by Mylene Farmer)

Shichijuni-kou (72 Seasons) Calendar Listing
初秋, Shoshu: Early Autumn
Season No. 14: 処暑, Shosho
The Limits Of The Heat

Rice kernals plumping under the watchful gaze of Jonenji Temple (Takehara, Hiroshima).

Climate No. 42: 禾乃登
Kokumono Sunawachi Minoru
Grasses Go To Seed
(September 2 -September 6) 

Before I learned about the Shichijuni-ko calendar, I always took the grasses beneath my feet completely for granted. Now that I'm more aware of these essential members of our biosphere, I can enjoy them from a whole new perspective. A typical patch of weeds by the roadside becomes a universe of textures and colors. Apparently my favorite haiku poet experienced a similar fascination with the most overlooked of our fuzzy, tufted friends.

The sun tucks itself behind Mt. Ibuki after an early harvest (Hikone, Shiga 2012).

 "So many grasses
  Each with its own
         Brilliant blossom."   -Matsuo Basho

Flower Of The Season: コスモス, Kosumosu, Cosmos

Triumphant cosmos brighten an Ohmi Hachiman flower field (Shiga Prefecture 2012).

Cosmos originate in the Americas but the Japanese love them as if they were native to the archipelago. Every year I get asked if there are cosmos where I come from, and every year I have to break a few hearts with my reply. The locals use cosmos as a rotation crop, painting the landscape in washes of pink, magenta and green.

Cosmos field in Higashi Ohmi, Shiga Prefecture (2012)

Critter Of The Season: イナゴ, Inago, Locusts

"Hitchin' A Ride" (Nagahama, Shiga 2012)

I have pleasant memories of leisurely cycling down the endless bike trails of southern Ibaraki's Tone and Kokai rivers. Almost like clockwork, during the first week of September, the trails become litered with hundreds of leggy green locusts warming themselves up on the asphalt. Sometimes they're paired up and can't maneuver efficiently away from my tires, the poor male being thrown onto his back as the female tries to escape into the grass with a pitiful flop. It's a good time to practice my steering, to say the least. Fortunately, I haven't hit any, yet.

Up close and personal with Mr. Greenlegs. (Fujishiro, Ibaraki 2003)

Inago (locusts) fried in oil, mirin and soy sauce are a regional delicacy in prefectures like Ibaraki where rice is a major crop. Back in the days when I would try almost anything for novelty's sake, I once crunched on a spoonful of inago no tsukudani . It had the texture of Cajun popcorn shrimp and the flavor was a cross between potato chips and Vietnamese peanut sauce -definitely something I would call 'delicious.' I can easily see why much of the world's inhabitants consider these insects 'good eating.' But as tasty as they are, I'd much rather see them sunning on the bike trails instead of on my plate.

Critter Of The Season: 海蛍, Umi Hotaru, Sea Fireflies

"Small Life, Big Light" (Mihara, Hiroshima 2014).
My brother once spoke of bioluminescence in the waters off the coast of Alaska. I never dreamed I'd be lucky enough to see such a living miracle with my own eyes while in Japan. But surely enough, while talking the sun down with my Hubby and a dear friend from England, there on the beach glowed an eerie electric blue light, streaking in time to the gently breaking waves. I bent down to touch it and the tiny lifeform leaked a luminous fluid, as if someone had broken a glow light tube. I gently picked it up along with its clump of wet sand and inspected the phenomenon with a flashlight; it looked exactly like a kernal of translucent shortgrain rice, but only half the size (and probably not as tasty. I'm terrible. I know).

Playing with sea firefly light trails using the Slow Shutter (TM) app.

Sea fireflies, aka Vargula hilgendorfii, inhabit the clear crystal waters of Japan's Seto Inland Sea, snoozing in the sand by day and darting up to the surface by night to feed. The first week of September is peak season for viewing these aquatic magicians of light. I've heard tales of locals swishing around in the waves causing millions of sea fireflies to illuminate the seawater like a neon sign. But I've only seen scatterings of these tiny creatures floating solo with the flotsam, washed up on the shore like lost sailors in the moonlight.  Oh how my imagination races when I spot one! What an amazing world we live in, where lifeforms grow and glow! Just imagine what else is out there! :-)

Copyright 2014 Robynn. All rights reserved. No part of this blog (written or photo content) may be reproduced or reprinted without the expressed permission of the author.

Monday, September 1, 2014

41. 天地始粛: "Heaven & Earth Begin To Cool"

(BGM: "Ton Amour Ocean" by Anggun)

Shichijuni-kou (72 Seasons) Calendar Listing
初秋, Shoshu: "Early Autumn"
Season No. 14: 処暑, Shosho
"The Limits Of The Heat"

One Last Dip (Namiki Cafe, Kure, Hiroshima)

Climate No. 41:天地始粛
Tenchi Hajimete Samushi
"Heaven & Earth Begin To Cool"
(August 28 -September 1) 

The clash of warm and cool air fronts bring dramatic skies over Mihara, Hiroshima.
"In this place
  All that meets the eye
             Is cool."   -Matsuo Basho

The summer was relatively cool compared to those of the past decade. But nights that don't make you wake up in a pool of sweat are always welcome, no matter how early in the year they arrive. The seasonal autumn rain front is hovering over the Philippines while a cold air mass from Siberia muscles its way over the country, giving us soft, breezy mornings and comfortable night air. We'll take it! 

Flower Of The Season: ナデシコ, Nadeshiko, Large Pink (Dianthus)

A wispy, frilly dianthus blossom graces a seaside cliff at Uratomi Kaigan. (Tottori Prefecture)
These spindly, delicate relatives of the carnation blush year-round in flowerpots from Honshu on south, saving their last blooming hurrah for the first few weeks of September. Nadeshiko's soft, spicy fragrance is reminiscent of warming cinnamon and vanilla, making one thirsty for coffee (well, me at least). They tend to thrive on winding mountain roadsides with plenty of rain and good drainage. (Not to be confused with Yamato Nadeshiko, the epitomy of Japanese beauty and femininity, although the flower sure would pass for it). 

Taste Of The Season: 葡萄, Budou, Grapes

A prize bundle of juicy grapes straight off the vine. (Sakurai Grape Farm, Kasumigaura, Ibaraki)
Before coming to Japan, the only grapes I ever knew were light green muscats imported from the Lower 48 that tasted nothing like the sickeningly sweet concoction known as "grape juice" sold in American supermarkets. Because of this discrepancy, I always thought the "grape" flavor of manufactured foods was an exaggeration for American tastes. (After all, we Americans like our flavors strong, right?)

Too many to choose from! (Sakurai Grape Farm, Kasumigaura, Ibaraki)
But one fateful bite into a cloudy, superball-sized kyoho grape and the water of my imagination had turned to wine. Each explosion of the sticky juice in my mouth was like a holy communion of flavor and joy. No wonder these were the favorite fruit of the Gods! I'd seen the light!

The pleasures of eating grapes right off the vine can be had for about 1000 yen and up at orchards and farms that feature budougari (ぶどう狩り, grape-picking). Sometimes there's a limit, but usually one bunch of these globular treats is enough to satisfy (less if your digestive system is over-efficient). Sitting in a clump of soft chickweed and grass, popping grapes like Dionysus under a canopy of floppy green leaves makes for a heavenly afternoon out of the sweltering sun.

Critter Of The Season: クラゲ, Kurage, Jellyfish

The official end of summer lingered only days away on the calendar and I realized that I never took the chance to swim in the Seto Inland Sea like I had promised myself. Fortunately for me, the humidity was still high enough to make late afternoon temperatures linger a few hours around 27C, just warm enough for a light dip before sunset. My summer didn't have to come to a close just yet!

But I noticed that even on the hottest days that week, though the seas were still as warm as they would be in July, nobody was out there in the water except me.

"It's because you're swimming after Obon," a friend told me. "Only crazy people swim after Obon." (Gulp!)

According to legend, once the spirits are sent out to sea during Obon, the waters become particularly dangerous. And woe to the poor swimmer who fails to heed warning: they risk being dragged down to their watery graves.

Not afraid of ghosts and relatively read-up on marine science, I was about to find out the real reason why people don't swim after Obon and it had more to do with invertebrate blobs of goo than aquatic undines. I didn't notice anything until I got home and did a second rinse in fresh water when I felt a burning, throbbing line of raised welt along the nape of my neck. Some hapless moon jelly had grazed me as I swished in the flow of things.

I showed the welt to our local drugstore pharmacist and he confirmed with a giggle that it was indeed a moon jellyfish lovebite, and he knew I'd been swimming after Obon. (Tisk tisk!) With a quick dab of extra-strength Muhi and lycra thermal underwear over my swimsuit, I was back in the water, happy as a clam with a whole extra month to float in wet, weltless bliss. 

Moon jellies might drift closer to shore as seawater temperatures plummet. But they honestly, I'm certain, don't give a flying fish if it's Obon or not. ;-)

A tank full of innocent-looking moon jellyfish. (Oarai Aquarium, Ibaraki)
Copyright 2014 Genkilee, Gen. All rights reserved. No part of this blog (written or photo content) may be reproduced or reprinted without the expressed permission of the author.