Believe it or not, Frozen Queen has survived her fourth winter. About three days ago, the temperature in my town soared to midsummer levels, and unfortunately, the roses in my garden—which have such lovely names—have been damaged. I hurriedly brought Frozen Queen inside to protect her.
Frozen Queen, which has survived its fifth winter
I bought the Frozen Queen because it reminded me of BTS’s J-Hope, but it’s a very rare variety and a mysterious plant that I’m not quite sure how to care for.
Anyway, it prefers a cool, well-ventilated spot. The flowers bloom from around May to June, producing reddish-purple blooms that resemble the shape of white calla lilies.
It doesn’t like direct sunlight very much, and while it likes water, overwatering causes root rot. Even if the flowers wilt, don’t cut the stems until the entire stem has withered and naturally falls out.
Since it doesn’t do well in summer, grow it in the shade, and similarly, wait until all the leaves have withered. In winter, once everything above ground has withered, gently pull it out, leaving the bulb inside buried in the dry soil (this is the Sunday edition.
It’s hot, isn’t it?), and when you notice it, expose it to winter sunlight without watering. In early spring, move it outside and grow it in full sun, making sure it doesn’t dry out, and confirm whether it has survived the winter by checking for sprouting that year.
On a completely unrelated note, a plant resembling a skunk cabbage has bloomed in my neighborhood, and it’s absolutely beautiful.
In short, it successfully survived its fourth winter.
As far as I know, bulbs are typically dug up before winter and replanted in the spring.
It seems this is the case with Frozen Queen.
If it survives this winter and sprouts for the fourth time, it might mean that Frozen Queen bulbs store nutrients from the soil on their own during the winter.
So, Frozen Queen is a plant that goes dormant during the winter, absorbing the nutrients it used while sprouting over the course of the year from the soil, and requires neither sunlight nor water during that time.
Typically, when overwintering bulb plants, you dig the bulbs up from the soil and store them in a dry place. If you look inside the soil, you’ll see either that the bulbs have divided and multiplied, or that a single bulb has grown lush foliage throughout the season while simultaneously storing nutrients for overwintering.
So why is it that only the Frozen Queen is specifically instructed to overwinter while buried in the soil without watering? It seems the Frozen Queen is indeed a very rare variety that goes dormant during the winter while the bulb itself stores nutrients from the soil.
A rainbow falling from a crystal
Because it suddenly got hot, the roses in my “Garden of Beautiful Names” were exposed to the sun’s glare, causing the temperature to feel like around 28 degrees Celsius. As a result, they dropped quite a few leaves, the flowers that were in bloom for the season withered, and the leaves curled up.
I’ve been taking immediate action by pruning them, lighting mosquito coils during the cool evening hours, adding fertilizer, and moving them to cooler spots—gradually transforming the garden into a summer “Garden of Beautiful Names.” The fountain continues to scatter cool light, with white water lilies still blooming in its clear waters.
After suddenly coming down with heatstroke, I’ve been cautious and have only been looking at the light through the curtains. But somehow, the light spilling from the blackout curtains onto the wall looked like the white sunlight of September, and it put me in a refreshing mood. It’s still early summer, but I’m wrapped in a refreshing sense of bidding farewell to the season.
Perhaps because of that, I bought some new incense on Temu. I think I’ll be able to share a photo of it soon.
Well then, please enjoy this lovely Sunday—it’s still a bit early for nightfall. I’m going to have a beer.
なので南アメリカのミュージック・シーンはここ数年マグマが沸る(たぎる)ホットさがMTV Video Music Awards : 通称VMA等色々な音楽プログラムやイベントで、見知らぬ情熱さや音楽への敬意の姿を見せていましたが、2026年現在、音が届く最先地としてミュージシャン達から愛され、聴衆からも愛されている、幸福な音楽社会なのでしょうね。
I wasn’t really sure how to listen to Latin music, but apparently there’s a genre within Latin music called Urban Latin Music.
According to Google AI, it’s a genre that blends elements of reggaeton and Latin trap. Reggaeton is described as dance music originating in Latin America that emerged in Puerto Rico in the 1990s.
Carol G happened to be listening to a playlist of new songs and thought the sound was urban, delicate, and sharp with a cool vibe, so she saved a screenshot on her smartphone.
Over the past few days, the members have been posting on Instagram about the huge sensation BTS has been causing in Brazil. Also, Sabrina Carpenter’s performance at this year’s Lollapalooza took place in Chile, and the response has been incredibly enthusiastic.
So, while the South American music scene has been sizzling with magma-like intensity over the past few years—as seen in various music programs and events like the MTV Video Music Awards (commonly known as the VMAs), where we witnessed unprecedented passion and respect for music—as of 2026, it seems to be a thriving music community that is loved by both musicians and audiences alike as a place where music truly comes alive.
This is a story from a long time ago, but Paul McCartney once held his first live concert in the former Soviet Union. I believe footage from that concert was broadcast on Apple TV or somewhere like that. Apparently, the Beatles were never able to perform there before they broke up. After the breakup, Paul McCartney was able to perform, and while it was his concert, it also served as a meeting point between the Beatles and the people of the former Soviet Union—it was Paul McCartney’s and the Beatles’ debut concert in the former Soviet Union.
The footage occasionally showed the audience at the outdoor venue; at one point, a couple started waltzing, and during “Back in the U.S.S.R.,” when Paul ad-libbed “Moscow, baby!” a huge cheer erupted. As I watched it, my heart swelled with emotion, thinking, “This is what music is really all about.”
Ever since I went to my first live concert, I’ve always felt it was a bit of a hassle—whether I got too carried away by the music or stayed too composed, it just didn’t feel quite right. Even when I was enveloped by the raw voices of the musicians and singers, I somehow still felt like I had to worry about what others thought, and I had to be careful not to get hurt.
When I was in seventh grade, some upperclassmen surprised us by putting on a loud live performance—with drums, bass, and vocals—in front of the entire school. Some kids didn’t know how to get into it, and because they didn’t know what to do, they panicked. Instead of facing the stage, they turned their backs and ended up cheering on the people in the crowd, thinking they were egging them on.
I think that even in Japan in 2026, there are still people who simply cannot understand why someone would buy a ticket and be there as an audience member—regardless of whether they’re familiar with concerts or live shows.
Music is something you either like or dislike. It’s not about how knowledgeable you are; you listen because you want to, and you go to a live venue because you want to experience it. For a long time, I’ve seen plenty of people who, I suspect, don’t actually like music.
Just like the phrase “people who don’t read books,” they compare themselves to those who enjoy music even though they don’t really like it themselves. They arbitrarily assume that because they don’t understand music, they’re inferior to us. Instead of simply staying away if they’re not interested, they go out of their way to find and hate people like me—who are happily talking about music or feeling inspired by a flyer on the wall.
They’re free to listen and watch whatever they like, but sometimes I just want to roll my eyes at people who, simply by wearing a merchandise T-shirt and showing up, try to intimidate others or go out of their way to lecture people on how “noble” they are—or who make me wonder if they can’t even choose their own music.
Back then, the only things everyone agreed on were the passionate cheers, praise, and joy—everything else was simply captured in the footage directed at that space and the music. Now, that same atmosphere exists as a matter of course in every major city across what is now called South America. Filled with envy, I feel like raising a glass of strong drip coffee to the realization that it’s perfectly fine to love music just the way you do.
I really love the jazz album released by Flea, the bassist for the Red Hot Chili Peppers. In this jazz album, he produces a cool, crisp sound on the trumpet. Thom Yorke of Radiohead also appears on a few tracks.
Thumbnail by apple music
Apparently, the album *Honora* is named after Flea’s great-grandmother. The album cover art features a portrait of his mother-in-law, Lady Shahin Badiyan. (From Wikipedia’s entry on *Honora*: https://w.wiki/MN6R) My favorite track is “A Plea,” which was also released as a single.
Another one I like is *Maggot Brain*.
Believe it or not, there’s even a music video for “A Plea.” When I watched the video, it vaguely reminded me of Benetton’s ads from the 1980s.
A Plea by Flea (Official Music Video)
After watching, I tried to organize my thoughts using the formula: Advertisement = CINEMA / Music Video (MV) ex: 1/2 If we make the music video the denominator of the fraction, then films (visual works) will always fall within the category of music videos. Music + Story (Message) + Video / Visuals = If we treat music as the common element in these components, there are also entities that consist solely of video or visuals.
So, if we provisionally define “Advertisement = CINEMA / MV,” then even without music, CINEMA / MV would still possess the nature of an advertisement, wouldn’t it? In that case, silence would also be considered a form of sound. In my post on perfect pitch, I wrote about people who possess the gift of having music play automatically in their heads.
But if silence is also sound, then it follows that the silence that exists before we put it into words is, in fact, music. Personally, I feel and think within that silence—in the realm that exists before sounds take on the form of phonetic symbols or words. Rather than turning that into sound, I usually put it into words, but that means every word that emerges from that silence is, in essence, music. So, is this poetry? Well, of course it isn’t. Poetry, as I currently understand it, is something that, just by reading it, makes music begin to play in the silent part of the heart, or conjures up images and scenes that linger forever. So, is poetry advertising? If we plug this into the diagram above: Is poetry the output resulting from substituting the silent part with language? Or Is poetry itself that silent part, and is it a message—taken on as a form—that says, “This is what I felt at the very beginning, extracted from the silent part with as little error as possible”? In that case, since the message must be linked to the advertisement with an “=” sign—and silence alone doesn’t constitute music—it follows that poetry is, after all, an advertisement. However, this means that only silent advertisements are poetry; naturally, poetry does not originally come with music. At the beginning of the music video, in the darkness, Flea performs an avant-garde dance—a form of butoh—dancing only what he feels in that moment, capturing the fleeting instant that can never be repeated. Eventually, a light resembling electricity begins to flicker, a mirror appears, and a studio-like space is revealed. When creating the music video, listening to the sound triggers something within the mind to begin dancing; eventually, the self watching this (the creator of the music video) suddenly passes by, initiating a “RUN”—an expression based on a real-life event in America—as a message.
The video concludes with the original music video creator presumably rushing over to help the self—who has fully reacted through visuals and emotion—back to their feet. I suppose the credits would read: “This music video represents what one individual felt and recalled upon listening to ‘A Plea.’ Is there a sense somewhere that, as someone who cannot create music, I feel a bit inferior when faced with it? It seems to convey that music only fulfills its true function when there is someone to listen to it. I felt as though my own journey of emotional response—one I undertake every time I listen to music—had finally been acknowledged. It was as if I’d watched a magnificent film or begun a book that would never end. Enveloped in a lingering afterimage of sheer contentment, I found myself gazing out the window, savoring the bright late afternoon of May 5, 2026, as it existed in the world.