Indeed, 452 working farmers had to permit the opening of 1340 umbrellas stretching across 12 miles of Japanese land. Conversely, land from only 25 people was necessary to open the 1760 umbrellas covering 18 miles in America.

"People should not only compare the difference," he continues, waving his hands like a conductor's baton, "but I wish for them to experience it. They do that through seeing the other half on TV or in the paper. It's happening at two places at once which was not conceivable before the middle of the 20th century." With a satisfied smile, he nods. "It takes an effort to see it all. You need to put so much of yourself in to see."
 

"Is it in?"

"Yeah!"

"Okay, now!"

A long pole-thin probe with a hook-end grabbed a loop at the top of the grey sleeve that covered the umbrella. The tallest crew member deftly lifted the probe and with it, the sleeve rose then flopped to one side like a kid's oversized sock. Another loop was hooked, lifted, then half the sleeve hung wagging. The photographer clicked away while the other crew members outstretched their aims ready to catch the detaching sleeve.

A gust of wind blasted and a hard-hat flew away followed by its disconcerted crew member. The empty sleeve filled up with air and flapped like a fighting grey mackerel from the tip of the pole, then let loose altogether and wriggled feverishly into the flailing arms of crew-member hugs.

I heard a giddy howl as the neon yellow vertical bulge of this first umbrella exposed the crowning of birth. A crew member jumped and clapped, but her cheers were swallowed by an invisible interloper of wind. The others stretched their necks back and looked up from its base, one hand holding their hats. Their laughter dissolved in the twenty feet between us, but their smiles went on forever.

I shivered with a sense of something rare; something wonderful; something that has never been before and would never be again. Or was it really that complex? The simple beauty of watching the crew work as an organized team with cheerful cooperation inspired a loyalty in me I could not explain. I felt as tied to them and their purpose as a gardener must feel toward the soil. In fact, this was like a garden: six years ago Christo planted the seeds. Now, by the brilliant toil of design and engineering, the fertile involvement of governments and communities in two nations, and the lust for growth by those crew members, the soil was bearing fruit Another howl erupted. I couldn't help it, What was I thinking? This wasn't a garden at all! This was art!