Allyson Whipple

Category: food

Debatable summer haiku
Just as there isn’t always a clear distinction between one season and the next, sometimes a haiku feels seasonal without having a clear seasonal referent. I’m not talking about haiku that completely lack a kigo. Rather, I’m thinking about haiku that seem to have a kigo, yet are not clearly grounded in an identifiable season.

There are a few reasons why a seasonal referent might not be clear:
- The word that is ostensibly a kigo could plausibly fit into more than one season;
- The reader’s interpretation of the potential kigo might be influenced by where they have lived;
- As a whole, the haiku suggests a different season than a single word might imply
Below, I have some haiku that are currently in my summer collection, but that I’m not entirely sure about. Some of them might belong to spring or autumn, or might be better placed in the All Year category. I welcome your thoughts in the comments!

Photo by RODNAE Productions on Pexels.com

farmers’ market
the queen bee
makes her appearance
Victor Ortiz, bottle rockets #46

I initially placed Victor Ortiz’s haiku in the summer category because summer is peak time for farmer’s markets and fresh produce. However, markets can easily last well into the fall, with root vegetables and cruciferous greens making an appearance. When I lived in Austin, farmer’s markets would last year-round, only skipping weekends from the most inclement weather. In addition, some cities in more temperate climates have covered markets year-round.

I’m also not sure how to treat the phrase “queen bee” as a kigo. In Haiku World, “bee” is listed as a spring kigo. Jane Reichold also listed “bee” as a spring kigo in A Dictionary of Haiku Classified by Season Words with Traditional and Modern Methods. I cannot find a reference to bees in Yamamoto Kenkichi’s The Five Hundred Essential Japanese Season Words. Honeybee mating season also begins in the spring. In Ortiz’s haiku, I interpret “queen bee” metaphorically, referring to a particular type of woman making an appearance, but taking the word more literally, it could refer to spring. As a result, I’m not 100% certain whether I should keep this poem in summer or move it to spring.

Photo by Wahid Hacene on Pexels.com

a month of Sundays . . .
berries rotting
on the vine
Julie Schrein, First Frost #1

While berries are a summer kigo, in Julie Schrein’s haiku, we see them rotting. In addition, the opening line illustrates the passage of time. That the berries are rotting does not inherently mean that autumn has arrived. Berries that are ready earlier in the summer can rot before autumn arrives. However, autumn is the season of decay, and the clear passage of time suggests that even if autumn hasn’t fully arrived, we’re in a transitional state. I’m tempted to move this haiku to autumn, but the word “berries” is such a classic kigo that I still have it in the summer.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

her scent on my fingers
lavender harvest
Robert Piotrowski, First Frost #2

When I think of lavender ready for harvest, I think of Blanco, Texas, which hosts an annual festival where visitors can travel to farms to harvest their own lavender. The festival takes place in May, which is early summer in the Lunar calendar, and late spring in the Gregorian calendar (however, in Texas, it’s definitely feeling like summer already). In addition, different varieties of lavender bloom throughout the year, with some in early spring, and others late in the summer (Gregorian)/early fall (Lunar). I haven’t moved this haiku out of the summer category yet, but I wonder if lavender isn’t best specified by the type it is (True/Common, Spanish/Butterfly, Fringed/French) in order to best place it in a specific season. That being said, given the minimalist tendencies in English-language haiku, poets might not want to add an additional modifying word . . . though if they’re aiming to be as specific as possible, that might be the most pragmatic choice.

Photo by Elli on Pexels.com

finishing dessert . . .
one last smear
of sunset
Tony Williams, Failed Haiku #70

“Sunset” is listed as an all-year kigo in Haiku World, but appears as a summer kigo in A Dictionary of Haiku Classified by Season Words with Traditional and Modern Methods. (I can’t find reference to it in The Five Hundred Essential Japanese Season Words.) By that logic, I should move Tony Williams’ haiku to the spring section. However, dining outdoors reminds me more of summer than of spring, when the late nights and dry weather are more conducive to outdoor dining. I think this is an example in which the whole of the haiku creates the season, rather than a specific word.

Photo by solod_sha on Pexels.com

sunset . . .
uncorking a bottle
of rose wine
Joe Sebastian, Haiku Pea Podcast, Series 5, Episode 6

As mentioned above, in the established saijiki I’m working with, “sunset” is either an all-year kigo or a spring kigo. However, I associate rose wine with summer, especially because frose (frozen rose) was a trendy summer millennial drink a few years ago. While “sunset” as a kigo might be ambiguous, to me, “rose” is not . . . However, that might be my own biases and preferences talking.

I look forward to your thoughts and suggestions! Even if you disagree with me, I hope the explanation of my thought process has been interesting.
July 26, 2022
Episode 2: Christa Pandey: Eggplant Abundance

Note: The theme music and transitions have changed because the ones I was using from my hosting service are suddenly no longer available. I discovered this at the proverbial 11th hour, so had to make do with new stock sounds. Hopefully that didn’t cause too much confusion. If you know of anyone who enjoys writing music and cues for podcasts, please let me know!

Christa’s winning poem in the 2022 Tanka Society of America Fleeting Words Tanka Contest

more than fifty years
we wandered side by side
in seeming bliss
who sees the cracks and flaws
we patched with liquid gold

Christa’s free-verse chapbooks
Southern Seasons
Maya: Glimpses of the Mahabharata
Hummingbird Wings: Karma Meditations
Who am I? Who are We?

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July 5, 2022
Episode 1: Agnes Eva Savich: The Redemption of the Pear

Welcome to the first episode of The Culinary Saijiki podcast! I talk with Agnes Eva Savich, leader of the Austin Haiku Study Group (among other things) about eight of her haiku. Along the way, we discuss holidays, motherhood, fruit, and the fun of Haiku North America conferences.

Agnes’ blog: https://agnesevasavich.wordpress.com/

For long-form essays and haiku commentary, visit the blog at https://culinarysaijiki.com/blog/.

If you would like to be part of the podcast, visit this URL for details: https://culinarysaijiki.com/join-the-conversation/

To support this project, buy me a coffee! Link: https://www.buymeacoffee.com/culinarysaijiki

June 21, 2022
Initial Observations Part 3: Seasonal Modifiers
In my May 10th post, I noted that I have observed three broad categories of food words in haiku:
1. Food words that are a definite seasonal referent;
2. Food words that are not a part of any specific season;
3. Food words that become seasonal with an additional modifying word
In the May 10th post, I also wrote about the first category. In the May 24th post, I focused on the second category. Today, I’m wrapping up the series by discussing the third category.

As of this writing, I’ve collected 140 haiku and senryu related to food. Based on my initial collections, category #3 represents the smallest proportion of haiku I’ve collected thus far.

Winter

Ginger cookies fresh from the oven. One of my favorites!

So far, winter contains the highest proportion of foods that become seasonal through a modifying word. My hypothesis is that because in the northern hemisphere, winter is the holiday season, a time when we’re often making special foods (such as Christmas cookies) that otherwise might fit all year. A chocolate chip or peanut butter cookie might show up in spring or fall (and even summer if you’re willing to turn on the oven). Christmas cookies, on the other hand, tend to be more elaborate, and some people make half a dozen different kinds. And while they’re festive, when juxtaposed with the right image, they can create a sense of melancholy. In Robert Witmer’s haiku below, I get a sense of loneliness.

baking Christmas cookies
the black and white TV
snows all night
Robert Witmer, bottle rockets #46

Likewise, holidays have their own particular candy. Christmas has (among other things) candy canes. Homemade candy in the form of fudge, taffy, peanut brittle, or buckeyes is common as well. While Christa Pandey’s haiku uses the generic “holiday sweets,” I see this as a winter or Christmas poem. The second and third lines, referencing the old country, make me think of homemade confections passed down from generations. In my experience, homemade Christmas candy is a little more common than homemade Easter, Valentine’s Day, or Halloween candy.

holiday sweets
last reminders
of the old country
Christa Pandey, Failed Haiku #70

Spring

Spring holidays also have their own candy. The empty heart in the first line modifies chocolates in the second line. Chocolate could appear at any time of the year, but chocolates that come from a heart-shaped box connect to Valentine’s Day.

an empty heart
the chocolates
all gone
Line Monique Gauthier, bottle rockets #46

I admit that it was challenging for me to list a Valentine’s Day poem in spring. In the haiku calendar, Valentine’s Day falls in early spring. Certainly in Texas, where I’ve lived for 14 years, Valentine’s Day can feel like spring (Snowpocalypse 2021 aside). But in many other parts of the country (and the world!) Valentine’s Day still feels like deep winter Still, for the sake of tradition, I’m including it here.

Photo by Ksenia Chernaya on Pexels.com

Robert Witmer’s poem connects to spring because the word blue brings to mind a robin’s egg. In fact, when I put it into my saijiki database, I wasn’t entirely sure it could be considered a cooking poem; perhaps it was simply a haiku about a robin hatching. However, when I read it, I also couldn’t stop thinking about the fresh chicken eggs I used to get from a friend’s back yard. They were typically smaller than grocery store eggs, and also came in a range of colors, including blue and green. This could be a hatching poem, a cooking poem, or both.

breaking
a small blue egg
birdsong
Robert Witmer,

Autumn

Photo by Tembela Bohle on Pexels.com

In Haiku World, William J. Higginson lists beer as a summer kigo. I was surprised by that, and although upon thinking about it I don’t think he’s entirely wrong, I don’t entirely agree either. There are so many styles of beer, and some are more appropriate for certain seasons than others. For example, I wouldn’t drink a port or a stout in summer—they’re too heavy, and best saved for winter. Lagers, pilsners, and shandies are best for summer. Sue Foster points to the tradition of Oktoberfest, turning beer into an autumn kigo. While I understand Higginson’s rationale (an ice-cold lager is exceptionally delicious) after a day of yard work, my opinion is that beer is an all-year term, and it requires either modifiers or specific names to ground it in a season.

fierce Texas sun beats down
Texas thirst meets iced
Oktoberfest beer
Sue Foster, Lifting the Sky: Southwestern Haiku and Haiga, ed. Scott Wiggerman and Constance Campbell.

Summer

Photo by Zen Chung on Pexels.com

Adelaide B. Shaw’s poem is perhaps my favorite example I’ve collected for this post, in part because it made me learn something new. Apples are normally an autumn kigo. I’d never heard of a windfall apple, so I looked it up. I learned that windfall apples are fruits that appear early, dropping as early as June! I realized I’d come across windfall apples already in my life, I just didn’t realize it. At my partner’s family farm, one of the apple trees was producing abundant fruit last July; I picked a fresh green one to use in my Fourth of July coleslaw. The modifying word “windfall” places this poem squarely in the summer season.

windfall apples
in my pockets
enough for a pie
Adelaide B. Shaw, bottle rockets #46

If you have any thoughts about seasonal modifiers for food, please let me know in the comments. I appreciate hearing from you! Don’t forget that the Culinary Saijiki podcast launches on June 21st!
June 14, 2022
Bonus Post: Spring and Summer Celebrations

First, thanks to Pamela Pfautsch for buying me a coffee and supporting The Culinary Saijiki. I appreciate that people I haven’t (yet) met in person are as excited about the project as I am.

This bonus post features haiku and related forms from community readers. Thanks to everyone who sent me their work. I had fun reading it, and I plan to do more of these in the future. Look for announcements of future bonus posts in August and November.

I was also excited to have poems from across the world! I love to eat cuisines from all over (I think Korean food is my favorite . . . but it’s a tough call!), and am glad to be able to represent different traditions here.

Photo by Anna Tis on Pexels.com

Oche Akor brings us two spring haiku. While I admit that they didn’t quite touch on the holiday aspect of the prompt, I still wanted to include these two in the post because I loved them so much. (I’ve been known to be a stickler as an editor, but a poem that surprises or intrigues me can override that tendency.)

This first haiku resonated with me because I’ve had weevils infest flour and rice . . . but also am in a position where, though the waste is lamentable, I can toss out the tainted food. This haiku is a compelling reminder that not everyone has that option.

spring breeze
the taste of weevils
in my beans . . .
Oche Akor, Lokoja, Kogi State, Nigeria

While the spring planting season isn’t specifically a holiday, there are traditions and cultures where it’s a festive time. Planting of crops is an investment in the future, a hope for a bountiful harvest in the fall. I feel the poem below contains a sense of wariness, which, given the state of agriculture around the world, certainly makes sense. These days, it seems natural to temper optimism with something else.

corn planting . . .
footprints in the sand
Going nowhere
Oche Akor, Lokoja, Kogi State, Nigeria

Photo by Markus Winkler on Pexels.com

Hwaro gives us two haiku that celebrate sharing food. During COVID, my partner and I have gotten into the habit of going on picnics. It’s a way to enjoy good food outdoors, and at a distance. Hwaro’s first haiku reminded me of our picnic dates. (Also, tteokbokki is one of my most favorite foods. As I type, I’m wishing I had some!)

Gimbap roll for each
Tteokbokki to pique the tongue
and enjoy the spring breeze
Hwaro, Coquitlam, British Columbia, Canada

While the haiku below doesn’t explicitly mention Father’s Day, I felt a strong connection with that particular holiday. Sometimes, it feels like there’s no way to fully honor your parents and all they have done for you. Yet the act of sharing a meal together, and being totally present, can sometimes be enough.

Father, I’ve got
nothing to offer you
shall we share jjajangmeyon?
Hwaro, Coquitlam, British Columbia, Canada

Photo by Archana GS on Pexels.com

Pamela Pfautsch brings us a tanka-style poem that made me think of all the delightful treats that emerge in summer. Whether enjoying a cold ice cream on a hot day, or the natural sweetness of fresh berries, cherries, and peaches, summer is a season full of sweetness. Haiku Haven captures the lushness of a berry bush, or the dessert spread at a picnic.

A breezy wisp
Of honeycomb sighs
Whoosh of treats
Flutter on honeybee wings
Summer’s sweet begins.
Pamela Pfautsch, Frisco, Texas, USA

Photo by Gustavo Peres on Pexels.com

I admit that I can’t resist a good pun, and Peter Schmidt made me laugh with this haiku. Peter packs a great deal of imagery into this small poem, and the picture of fudge and melting ice cream merging makes me think about the ways in which long, hot summer days can melt into each other, with time slowing down in the heat.

Chocolate Sunday
Hot fudge sun melts ice cream breeze
Scoop of May in June
Peter Schmidt, Lexington, MA, USA

Photo by Maria Orlova on Pexels.com

Geoff Pope offers this haiku with a bit of mystical quality to it. I love coconut soup, and there are many variations; they can range from creamy white to orange or green, depending on the other ingredients. In Geoff’s poem, I picture a moon-white bowl of soup, enjoyed at night at a solstice festival. The bowl has a bit of glow to it, maybe from outdoor lights, or maybe from something a little more magical. I like the idea of being able to eat moonlight, and Geoff’s poem makes that feel like a possibility.

summer solstice—
a bowl of coconut
moonlight soup
Geoff Pope, Paducah, Kentucky, USA

Photo by Karolina Grabowska on Pexels.com

Robert Epstein was the first person to send haiku for this bonus post! These haiku invoke the delights of family. In fact, in my acceptance letter to Robert, I noted that the child in the monoku below could easily be my nephew! The word “river” invokes water, so I picture a blue-raspberry Popsicle running in rivulets, dripping onto the lawn below.

that river of popsicle down the bare-chested toddler
Robert Epstein, El Cerrito, CA, USA

While the she in this poem isn’t necessarily a child, I picture a young girl here, someone young enough to not care what someone might think about her spitting watermelon seeds on the ground. I think a child would also find it amusing to time their spitting with the show. When I read the following haiku, I can’t help but think of a girl making extra fun for herself on a summer night.

watermelon seeds—
she spits them out in concert
with the fireworks
Robert Epstein, El Cerrito, CA, USA

While Robert’s last haiku is based in memory and written from the perspective of adulthood, the wonder of childhood runs through in this haiku. Maybe the children didn’t appreciate the efforts at the time, but as an adult, you could feel a sense of reverence for the way in which your mother took the time to cut small pieces of cool melon on a hot day.

the simple way
she cut into small pieces
the cantaloupe for us
~ in memory of my mother
Robert Epstein, El Cerrito, CA, USA
Originally published in The Helping Hand Haiku Anthology, ed. Robert Epstein, 2020

Photo by Polina Tankilevitch on Pexels.com

Mary Stevens brings multisensory haiku that to me capture the quotidian essence of summer. In her first haiku, I picture someone sitting out on a porch in the evening, as the air cools down. Maybe the neighbors are cooking, maybe they’re eating, maybe they’re even arguing. You can probably hear them because the windows are open. This haiku makes me think about how everything seems open and permeable in summer (at least when it’s not so hot you have to lock yourself in with the air conditioner).

summer evening
the neighbors’
kitchen sounds
Mary Stevens, Hurley, NY, USA
Originally published in Upstate Dim Sum, 2021

Even though this poem also doesn’t name a specific holiday, the way the middle line serves as a linchpin for the first and second lines makes me want to read it over and over. This haiku not only makes me think of eating an antipasto platter on a warm evening (one of my favorite summer dinners), but it’s packed with sensuality despite being only eight words long.

pitting an olive
in my mouth
his name
Mary Stevens, Hurley, NY, USA
Original published in Modern Haiku 50.3, 2019

Mary’s final haiku incorporates music. This poem reminds me of the ways in which ice cream truck music can be jarring. Sometimes it’s one consistent tune, but other trucks will cycle through a variety of tinny renditions of old songs. The music gets stronger as the truck approaches, but then after the ice cream is purchased, the music fades away, just as summer fades into fall.

summer’s end
the counterpoint melody
of the ice cream truck
Mary Stevens, Hurley, NY, USA
Originally published in The Heron’s Nest XXII, Number 4, 2020

Thanks again to everyone who sent work for this bonus issue! In June, I’ll wrap up my series on initial observations about food and haiku. Also, be on the lookout for the podcast launch on June 21st!

May 31, 2022
Observations Part 2: All-Year Food
Before diving in, I’d like to thank Geoff M. Pope for being the first supporter of this new project. I’m now officially making progress on my goal of covering website costs for the year. If you would like to support the Culinary Saijiki project, you can visit the Buy Me a Coffee page here: https://www.buymeacoffee.com/culinarysaijiki.

Second, don’t forget that tonight is the deadline to send your haiku and senryu for the May 31st bonus post. Note that although the deadline is 11:59 p.m. CST, I will be asleep when that passes, so if you slip your haiku in during the wee hours, I’ll still take them! You can find the submission form here: https://forms.gle/wamaaMmoYS88AjXz6

Notes on All-Year Food

In my May 10th post, I noted that I have observed three broad categories of food words in haiku:
1. Food words that are a definite seasonal referent;
2. Food words that are not a part of any specific season;
3. Food words that become seasonal with an additional modifying word.
This week, I’m focused on the second category.

As of this writing, I’ve collected 125 haiku for the project. Of those, the greatest proportion are all-year words, making up 36% of the current total. Although I haven’t collected statistical data every time I add a haiku to my Scrivener file, I know that when I first started collecting, the all-year food words were an even higher percentage. As I’ve added to the collection, the proportions have evened out somewhat, though the all-year words still come up more frequently. As yet, I don’t have a hypothesis as to why that might be.

In Haiku World, William J. Higginson identifies the following food-related words in the All Year section of his saijiki:
- Meal
- Cooking
- Beverage
- Coffee
- Pots and Pans
Although I have collected a range of all-season words beyond these five, as a nod to his work, in this post, I’ll discuss the haiku I’ve collected that relate to his original list. None of these appear in Haiku World; they’ve all been published recently.

Meal

Breakfast is a common meal that shows up in haiku. Morning and evening seem to be inspiring times of day for haiku poets, and if you have the luck of enjoying peaceful, leisurely breakfasts, I can see how the first meal of the day would lead to inspiration.

morning meditation;
thinking about not-thinking
. . . and breakfast
Shir Haberman, bottle rockets #46

rising early . . .
a half-finished haiku
for breakfast
Tony Williams, Failed Haiku #70

I debated whether classifying Johnette Downing’s lunch haiku as all-year or not. On the one hand, there isn’t a clear seasonal referent. On the other hand, a lunch box implies school. As school runs most of the calendar year, though, I didn’t feel right assigning this haiku to the autumn category. A lunch box could also imply summer camp. Therefore, I designated this one as all-year. If you disagree, let me know in the comments. I’d love to hear your thoughts! (Johnette, if you happen to see this, please do chime in about what you intended!)

lunch box
her doll
a stowaway
Johnette Downing, bottle rockets #46

The act of setting the table can be a meditative experience that can yield haiku moments. It doesn’t have to be a formal dinner arrangement; a simple home arrangement for a small family brings new moments of awareness.

table setting
for three
bun in the oven
Brittney Ritoff, Failed Haiku #70

Cooking

At present, I haven’t found much in the way of cooking-related haiku, senryu, or zappai that don’t have an additional seasonal modifier. Ronald K. Craig’s humorous poem reminds me of the pitfalls of having to cook for oneself: not wanting anything you have in the fridge, hoping dinner will cook itself, and trying to talk yourself out of takeout.

often the fridge door of opportunity opens
Ronald K. Craig, Failed Haiku #70

Beverage

Tea is the most common all-year beverage I’ve collected so far, and ultimately, deserves to be a topic of its own, on par with coffee. That being said, varieties of tea can become season-specific words; a colleague of mine talked about how green tea makes her think of spring. I’m certain that tea will get a post of it’s own in the future!

teacups filled
with fallen blossoms
closing time
Shiela Sondik, tinywords 18.2

blue days
Mom pours what ifs
from her teapot
Adele Evershed, Haiku Pea Podcast, Series 5, Episode 6

Sunday morning
head bowed, hands clasped
around my tea
Kristen Lindquist, Kristen Lindquist, Haiku Pea Podcast, Series 5, Episode 8

In Gary Hotham’s poem below, the cup could refer to tea, coffee, or something else entirely. The presumably empty beverage vessel connects to rich memory, nostalgia, and perhaps grief. I’m also intrigued by the extent to which mothers come up in the haiku and senryu in this section.

Mom’s home
the last cup
she drank from
Gary Hotham, Rightsizing the Universe: Haiku Theory, Yiquralo Press, 2019

Coffee

Coffee is one of the most popular all-season food words I’ve collected so far. I’m certain that if I went through the list of all the haiku I’ve written, coffee would be the food/beverage word that features most frequently. While coffee can be modified to reflect the season (more about that in June), a hot cup of coffee seems appropriate just about any time of the year. (And if you’re not sensitive to caffeine, it’s appropriate to any time of day!)

coffee shop date jitters
Marsh Muirhead, Failed Haiku issue 70

waiting for your call
the coffee percolator
welling up
David Gale, First Frost #1

coffee milk cloud
another day to figure
out the finances
Crystal Simone Smith, First Frost #1

hot black coffee
ad-just-ing my eye-sight
between sips
Paul Callus, Haiku Pea Podcast, Series 5, Episode Episode 8

Pots and Pans

As with most of the cooking-specific haiku I’ve collected so far, most of my pots-and-pans haiku have a seasonal modifier, taking them out of the all-year category. However, left to their own devices, this is definitely an all-year word. We have to cook regardless of season!

our first saucepan cooking for one
Maurice Nevile, Failed Haiku #70

silence . . .
water comes to a boil
in a silver pot
Seth Kronick, Haiku Pea Podcast, Series 5, Episode 8

Do let me know your thoughts in the comments, and don’t forget to send me your bonus post submissions by tonight! I’m already putting it together with the work that has come in so far, and I’m looking forward to sharing it with you.
May 24, 2022
Initial Observations Part 1: Food Kigo
I’m about seven weeks into my yearlong study of saijiki. While my personal writing practice isn’t centered around food, working with Higginson’s Haiku World, as well as the companion volume The Haiku Seasons, have been invaluable as I also explore the ways in which food and the seasons work in haiku.

Photo by Josh Hild on Pexels.com

As of this writing, I have collected 93 haiku that incorporate food in some way. Taking a cue from Haiku World, I am organizing them by season, as well as maintaining an All-Year category. Based on what I have collected so far, I have observed three broad categories:
1. Food words that are a definite seasonal referent;
2. Food words that are not a part of any specific season;
3. Food words that become seasonal with an additional modifying word
I will focus on the first category in this post, the second category in my May 24th post, and the third category in my June 14th post.

Some Observations

At this point in the project, inherently seasonal food words make up the smallest proportion of haiku that I have collected. Most of the poems in my Scrivener file involve all-year food words, or foods that become seasonal through additional modifiers. The greatest proportion of inherently seasonal food words falls into the summer category. Spring and winter have the lowest proportions. However, I have nothing close to a statistically significant sample size, so I won’t be surprised if the proportions change as I go.

As I’m still early in my journey of collecting haiku, I’m only giving 2-3 examples for each season of food kigo.

Spring

As spring is the planting season, seeds are a specific kigo. Even if there is another food referent that might indicate a later season, as in Cherie Hunter Day’s haiku below, the presence of seeds grounds the poem in spring. Seeds speak to the potential food we will eat in the future.

hidden in the seed packet star songs
Stuart Barrow, bottle rockets #46

lockdown
starting a lemon tree
from seed
Cherie Hunter Day, First Frost #1

The sugar maple is another image of food that is not yet ready for consumption. It also illustrates the challenge of working in two traditions. Sap harvesting season runs 4-6 weeks, and can start as early as February. While that’s still deep winter for those of us working with the Gregorian calendar, in the haiku calendar, it’s spring. There’s also no accounting for climate. You can be well past the spring equinox and still get snow in areas where sugar maples thrive!

sugar maple
pressing my tongue
against the wood
Genevieve Wynand, Kingfisher #3

Summer

The best iced tea is that which has been brewed slowly. Sun tea is a perfect summer beverage, and therefore a summer kigo. The heat of the sun allows for a long, slow infusion of tea leaves. Then, you can pour the tea over ice for a refreshing beverage.

my writing
slow as that snail
sun tea
John S. Green, First Frost #2

Tomatoes are one of the quintessential summer foods in the Western hemisphere. I remember that some years, my parents struggled to get theirs to thrive, and other years, we had more tomatoes than we could handle!

heirloom tomato
the want ads
rustle
Aidan Castle, Kingfisher #3

Ice cream is a treat best enjoyed in the summer. It’s cold, rich, and a delightful treat during hot weather. I still remember the ice cream socials held in June and July in the town where I grew up.

maternity dress
a scoop of homemade
ice cream
Deborah P. Kolodji, Kingfisher #3

Autumn

Apples are a quintessential autumn fruit. Cultural motifs might include apple picking, pressing cider, making apple pies a Thanksgiving, and bringing an apple for the teacher at the start of the school year.

cut apple slices
the star
in all of us
Gillen Cox, Haikuniverse, March 27th, 2022

in the old orchard
sad apple trees
concede their mortality
Phil Huffy, Haikuniverse, April 1st, 2022

apple blushed and ripe
I close my eyes with the taste
yes, Eve, yes
Ellen Rowland, Kingfisher #3

Kale is one of the last greens to be harvested in the year. One of the hardiest cruciferous vegetables, it grows late into the season, which makes it a fitting fall vegetable.

picking kale—
the darkened veins
in grandma’s hands
Jacob Salzer, Kingfisher #3

Winter

At first I was undecided about whether to consider sweet potatoes a fall kigo or a winter kigo. While they are harvested just when it’s starting to get cold, they’re stored in root cellars, and eaten during the coldest months. I see sweet potatoes as providing nourishment when the gardens and fields are fallow.

sweet potato
the peeling away
of intimacy
Joanna Ashwell, First Frost #1

Even without a seasonal word such as wind chill, like in Lenard D. Moore’s haiku below, the idea of rich, warm hot chocolate as an antidote to the cold makes it a winter kigo.

wind chill
the hot chocolate
still too hot
Lenard D. Moore, Kingfisher #3

Tthe gingerbread house, along with other variations of gingerbread, is a winter image, associated with Christmas. (I’m partial to the Kemp’s gingerbread men ice cream sandwiches . . . it’s definitely weird to be eating ice cream in winter, but they are also delicious.)

a gingerbread house in this economy
Aaron Barry, Kingfisher #3

I’d love to hear your thoughts on these first observations in the comments. Also, don’t forget to send me your haiku for the special themed bonus post at the end of May!
May 10, 2022
Groundwork Part 2: Seasonal Inspiration

In my April 12th post, I talked about how I came to saijiki study, and how I incorporate both the Gregorian seasons and the lunar seasons into my haiku practice. Through my decision to work with a saijiki for a year, I got inspired to think about how we approach food in haiku. Like many of my ideas, it had probably been building for a while, but it seemed to come in a flash. I to create a large-scale project related to haiku, but didn’t feel I had anything specific to talk about over the long haul.

I decide my saijiki topic or word for the day first thing in the morning. After I brush my teeth, I sit down at my kitchen table with Haiku World and my notebook, skim through the list, and settle on a focal point. Exploring the saijiki right when I get up primes me to pay attention to the world around me as I walk Astrid every morning. Our first stroll of the day lasts around 30 minutes, and usually, I’m able to get at least one haiku related to the theme of the day by the time we come home. I don’t carry a notebook and pen when I write; I have to hold the haiku in my head as we walk, and take care not to let it slip away. Not only does this allow for a fair amount of mental revision before I even sit down at the notebook, but it serves as a sort of meditation. Since I started my saijiki practice over a month ago, I’ve discovered that the amount of time I spend ruminating on the walk has gone down dramatically. My mind is too occupied with haiku to be able to focus on my worries about the day ahead!

I started my saki study on March 20th, 2022. The idea for the Culinary Saijiki project came to me 24 hours later, as I was taking my dog, Astrid, for her morning walk. The topic I’d chosen for March 21st was the word “March,” and the Haiku World example was a poem from Allan Curry:

middle of March
the first lemonade stand
has a slow day
Alan Curry, Haiku World (ed. Higginson), p. 45

In the “March” entry, Higginson notes that the topic of “lemonade stand” is really a summer kigo in the northern hemisphere (p. 45). Allan Curry creates juxtaposition by contrasting the defined spring season with a summer image. (Even in Austin, March is often not ideal lemonade stand weather!)

Photo by RODNAE Productions on Pexels.com

Astrid and I had just stepped off the apartment grounds and into Houston Street. I was pondering the concept of “March,” as well as Allen Curry’s poem. Suddenly, I was reminded of the fact that food is seasonal. Yes, in the United States, we are able to get produce year-round, regardless of whether or not it’s actually in season. But fundamentally, food is connected to the changes of spring (planting), summer (growing), autumn (harvesting), and winter (resting). The agricultural year has a rhythm, and food follows it. I wondered what it would be like to create a saijiki entirely around the concept of food.

My mind was so captivated by the idea that I barely managed to find a haiku on that dog walk. By the end of the day, I decided to structure the project as a blog, in hopes of fostering discussion and collaboration with other haiku poets. I had also decided a podcast would be a fun complement. I wanted to be able to not just write about my own perceptions of food and haiku, but have direct discussions with others as well. Before I went to bed, I’d bought the website URL and made a to-do list.

I’ve been slowly building this project for about 5 weeks now. As of this writing, I’ve collected and tagged 65 food-related haiku, just from the print journals I have on-hand, as well as PDF publications in my hard drive. After just one day of struggling to find an organizational system in Microsoft Word that I liked, I jumped ship and bought a copy of Scrivener. I’d attempted to use Scrivener as a budding fiction writer about 12 years ago, but it didn’t resonate with my process. However, I plan to work on the Culinary Saijiki for a while, and the thought of a folder filled with hundreds of Word documents, or one giant Word file of doom, made me feel overwhelmed. I realized that Scrivener’s binder approach would make it easy for me to organize and tag the haiku I collected.

My current Culinary Saijiki project has a folder for each season, plus an All-Year category. I have a template for typing out the entries, and I tag each one with relevant keywords. I can sort by season, by type of food, or some other aspect. Being able to do so will help me structure future commentary on food-related haiku, and eventually compile a print book (though I don’t plan on that happening for at least two years). At the moment, I’m only adding haiku that I find myself, but stay tuned on the blog. Every now and then, I’ll post calls for themed submissions for special bonus posts, and those will end up in my database as well. (Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to get permission if I want to include them in the book, but that’s still far in the future.)

A screen shot of my Scrivener project

As for the podcast, I’m launching that in June. I’ve had several blogs over the years, so I was able to get started on that right away. Plus, I consider the blog the foundation of the project, so it made sense to start that first. Finally, since I’ve never produced a podcast before, I needed to give myself time to set up an infrastructure and learn the basics.

While I’ll be soliciting a few podcast guests, especially as I try to get things up and running, all haiku poets who want to talk about food are welcome to join in. Please fill out the form at the “Join the Conversation” page so I can get to know you and your work a little more.

In my May 10th post, I’ll be talking about the preliminary ideas I’ve developed in my study of food and haiku so far. If there are other topics you’d like me to cover in the future, please leave a comment!

April 26, 2022
The Best of It: Holiday Food Edition
It’s not Thanksgiving for me without pumpkin pie
1. John doesn’t like pumpkin pie, which means extra for me. (Did we basically each bake our own favorite pies this year for ourselves? Yes.)
2. It’s eggnog season!!
3. Fried chicken salad
4. A house with central heat
5. Peppermint mochas
December 2, 2020
The Best of It: The Poetry of Donuts Edition
A delightful donut and coffee
1. Postcards from the August Poetry Postcards Festival have already started to arrive! They bring me such joy.
2. The blueberry donuts from Wheatsville.
3. Getting to participate in the Wednesday Night Poetry virtual open mic.
4. My grading queue is clear (for now).
5. Natalie Goldberg hopped into our workshop practice period today. Wonderful to get to be in her (virtual) presence!
July 22, 2020