In the Pines

Check, check, one-two, one-two; mic check, one-two, one-two. Time to blow the dust off and enter this space. It's been a while.  In some ways I feel as though I'm in a dream. There was a man once who lived in a small mountain village in central Japan and shared his thoughts about that experience. Who is this man? Am I this man? Since finishing my dissertation and graduating from the University of Hawaiʻi at Mānoa a lot has happened.  Some highlights: -I obtained a temporary academic position and moved to Tokyo--it was hot and weird, I've never been a fan of Tokyo. -I obtained a tenure-track academic position with Earlham College, located in a miniscule midwest mecca called Richmond, Indiana. -A beautiful corgi, who my wife and I named Pualani, suddenly came into our lives--and changed them forever, our first daughter. -My wife joined me in Indiana and gave up on living in Hawaii. We were depressed, we struggled, but eventually learned to appreciate live in the midwest, kind...

A surreal night, watching the devastation in Japan while the blare of tsunami sirens bounced about the walls of Honolulu's myriad concrete buildings. Waves penetrated my sleep. Best wishes to all in Japan who are feeling as uncertain as the ocean. May calmer waters come your way.

Reading David Abrams The spell of the sensuous: Perception and language in a more-than-human world and came across this gem of a passage in which he describes the role of perception in the life of an organism. Consider a spider weaving its web, for instance, and the assumption still held by many scientists that the behavior of such a diminutive creature is thoroughly "programmed in its genes." Certainly, the spider has received a rich genetic inheritance from its parents and its predecessors. Whatever "instructions," however, are enfolded within the living genome, they can hardly predict the specifics of the microterrain within which the spider may find itself at any particular moment. They could hardly have determined in advance the exact distances between the cave wall and the branch that the spider is now employing as an anchorage point for her current web or the exact strength of the monsoon rains that make web-spinning a bit more difficult on this evening. And...

Hello? Hello. . .? Anyone still out there? After too long of a hiatus, I've finally found my way back to the blogosphere. Not sure what the content of my posts will be from here on out. I still have plenty to say about Japanese environments, rural communities, forest governance, and the like. But, my mind is wandering to other topics as well. Will have to see what comes out. Last night found my way to Mardi Gras here in downtown Honolulu. It was an odd mish-mash of Brazil, Cuba, and Nawlins, an oddly appropriate mix. Anyway, I was back home and in bed by 11PM. . .hardly the late-night revelry that the organizers intended, I'm sure. Ah, but such is the life of an over-worked grad-student (am I overworked). Right, well, I'm back. Let's leave it at that for now. There are various papers awaiting my revisions. Over and out.

Days and days and days go by with not a word on my blog. Then, today, one of these little guys decided to come along and wake me up. This morning as I sat in my office on the University of Hawaii at Manoa campus a Japanese White Eye decided to come for a visit. The bird announced itself with a light thud on the glass (clean windows, a bird's nightmare). I stood from my chair and examined the ledge outside my window. There lay the little bird. So small and delicate, its little breast rising in falling with rapid breaths. It seemed mortally wounded and near its last breath. I'm a lover of birds and the Japanese White Eye I love above all others, so I felt compelled to stay there with the little fellow in his final moments of life. It was heartbreaking. But, seemingly just as quickly as this wee champ had gone down, it suddenly sprung back on its two feet. The bird's eyes seemed wide, like a quarterback who's just had his bell rung. The movements of the ...

While most of the archipelago is enjoying spring, with summer lurking just around the bend, Ontake-san still suggests winter. Well, at least in form. I'm in Hawai`i, so I have no tactile sense of the mountain, but surely its snows are heavy with water. The sun, in its increasingly long arc across the sky working to slowly dismantle the labors of winter. Winter does not give in so easily however, rearing its head and gnashing its teeth now and again (particularly this year, where there was a snow storm well into April). Nights too, on the mighty mountain, still belong to winter. But, soon the summer sun will prevail, at least for a few months, as it has for so many years. Its lovely, this child-like wrestling match. *photo courtesy of the blog 水と緑のふるさと王滝村

A short video taken before coming to Hawai'i of sakura (cherry blossoms) falling at Hara-dani-en (原谷苑) near Kinkaku-ji (金閣寺) temple in Kyoto. Sorry, I'm not savvy enough to include some fitting music or anything. . .so it's just video as is, which my wife Aki clarifies at the end. For those who haven't been to Haradanien is worth checking out during sakura season. . .guess you have to wait a year now. Haradanien website (Japanese only)

無事にハワイに着きました！ 王滝村の皆さん、 ２年間、本当にありがとうございました。

Yesterday Aki and I visited Shintaki (新滝) waterfall with a friend.　　Last winter the waterfall froze for only a brief period and we didn't have a chance to see. I'm very glad we've taken the time to see it this winter. Recently, Otaki has spent more time on the negative side of the thermometer than it has on the positive side, so the ice on Shintaki has continued to grow and grow. The color of the ice are difficult to capture through the lens (at least for someone as unskilled in the art of photography as I). However, the phantasmal shapes that stand up from the ground and hang down from cliffs overhead are alluring to say the least. Rippled flows of ice spread out in deep shades of blue. One can walk, with caution, over the still movements of the water. A couple of weeks ago I saw a car with out of town plates parked above Shintaki for about a week. I'm guessing this was a religious practitioner, probably staying a small wooden hut that flanks the waterfall. I...

Evening walk in Kuzo hamlet. One of my favorite places in Otaki. The road we walked on, my wife and I, was covered in many spots in a good 5 centimeters of ice. From the forest above us we heard the "chi chi chi" of macaques calling to their comrades that there are bigger primates about. Only a few minutes up the road from our house a narrow valley opens enough to allow glimpses of Mt. Ontake. On this evening, clouds clung loosely about the mighty mountain, like down on a gosling. The air was dry and brought a sharpness to the winter landscape, imbuing it with a liveliness that betrayed its skeletal trees and empty fields, which might otherwise signify a scene of lifelessness. The songs of wintering birds struck out from the forest and cut through the frozen silence. A bit further on and we caught sight of a Japanese serow and his (her?) mate. They stood silent and unmoving on patches of grass occupying the center of concrete squares arrayed to form a larger lattice-...

新年あけましておめでとうございます 本年もよろしくお願いします Today is the first day of the new year that I've spent in Otaki; I was in Kyoto over the holidays. Throughout the day I've marveled at the winter light as it plays across the landscape. The low and flat rays of the sun slink through deep gorges of the Otaki Valley, and leap out from ridgelines in the most amusing ways. This interplay of light and earth casts deep blue shadows down the valley, creating a landscape of interloping framents of light and dark. It's a landscape made whole by being broken apart.

Image source: Makino, H. and M. Mitsuo (1953). 付知川に於ける材木伐出の沿革と檜解 (History of timber extraction in Tsukuchigawa). Tsukuchigawa, 付知川営林署 (Tsukuchigawa Forest Management Office). As I mentioned in my last post, a recent article in a Nagano newspaper, the Shinano-mainichi-shinbun 信濃毎日新聞, about my research and recent paper presentation in Philadelphia promoted the local Forestry Agency office to give me a call and set up a time to talk. Yesterday, I met with two officials from the Forestry Agency: the heads of the Agematsu 上松 and Setogawa 瀬戸川 offices (the latter is located here in Otaki). I've used the word "monitor" in the title of this post and I intend the full range of meaning that the word embodies--from innocent watching to menacing surveillance. It seems to me this is the nature of monitoring; one never knows how closely they are being watched, or to what ends. In this instance monitoring came to mind for two reasons: 1) the swiftness with which the Forestry Agency su...

As anyone who glances even intermittently at this blog will know. . .my posting prowess has all but non-existent as of late. I will blame this on "the writing life". Since mid-October perhaps (I don't remember exactly) I have been living this life. Writing. Preparing funding applications and presentations for two conferences. In November I attended and presented a paper at the Anthropology of Japan in Japan (AJJ) conference at Temple University Japan and this last week I attended and presented a paper at the American Anthropological Association (AAA) meeting in Philadelphia (hence the Liberty Bell picture). I've debated putting the paper that I presented online, because it still feels like a work in progress. But, think I'll go ahead and do it. . .perhaps some feedback will come my way (but be nice please). Before I left for Philadelphia a newspaper reporter from a Nagano prefecture paper known as the shinano-mainichi-shinbun 信濃毎日新聞 came to Otaki to interview...

IMG_6093 , originally uploaded by taintus . There has been a lot of talk about bears in the village recently. I've heard that there is an overabundance of chestnuts and acorns in the Kiso area this year (though I've heard conflicting reports of low volume), which means more bears. Regardless of this particular factor, many people in Otaki suggest that bear-human encounters are increasing. There may be many causes, but a general ecological shift is likely the main culprit. Wartime over-cutting in backcountry areas, followed by heavy planting of timber trees has limited nutrient rich habitat for many animals, including bears. Forests around many villages, which tend to be locally managed for mulitple uses, on the other hand are often comprised of diverse trees, including a variety of fruit-bearing broadleaf varieties (including chestnut and acorn trees). So, guess where the bears are going for food? We've had several bear sightings in Otaki recently. To the point where a...

During a walk in Otaki's backcountry today I was greeted with the wonderful sight of Otake-san donning its robe of white for the first time this season. Rain yesterday in the village had translated to a light blanket of snow down to about 2,500 meters. As I gazed upon the mountain cool breezes rolled down the canyon and whispered in my ears. . ."winter is on its way". I walked back to town through shafts of soft light that filtered through tree tops at the canyon's rim while papery leaves whirled clumsily about me like a team of drunkards. My last Otaki autumn for a while. The snows will be coming soon. Goodnight Ontake-san.

The days have cooled considerably here in Otaki , and the hillsides are beginning to blush. Stalks of rice, which were planted in May, have begun to hang their heavy heads. They look tired, having spent their days stretching to grasp the sun, which sits so impossibly far away, yet always taunts with its warm embrace. Because of Otaki's elevation, the growing season for rice is quite short. As a result, I've heard, that rice grown here is not so delicious. However, I've received rice from people in the village before and found it to be quite tasty. In the past rice was not heavily grown in Otaki . Millet, buckwheat, and other grains appear to have been more common. In Takigoshi , a hamlet located in the back of the Otaki valley, it is too cold for rice. At points in the past rice was purchased by residents who earned money hunting and selling skins--particularly bear. I'm not sure when rice came to be more commonly grown in Otaki , but I imagine it's probabl...

Over "silver week" (a series of holidays that lined up this week in Japan) Aki and I climbed Ontake-san with a couple of friends. This was our first time staying in one of the mountains several lodges; it was a great trip. The 20th boasted perfect weather--not a cloud in the sky--but a drinking party on the night of the 19th had dissuaded me from thinking about climbing that day. So, our friends arrived on the 20th and we set out the next morning--the 21st. The weather was not as brilliant as it had been the day before, but we were able to stay above the clouds for most of the climb. Some highlights from the climb: Just above Ta-no-hara 田の原 (the highest point you can reach by car--about 2200 meters) we encountered this group of Shingon Buddhists chanting as they descended. I have previously met the monk that was leading the group and he explained to me that the red cords that the worshipers wear at their waists symbolize umbilical cords that tie them to their "moth...

On the way to my job at Otaki's combined elementary/junior high school I stopped to take a shot of this buckwheat ( soba ) field. It was a beautiful morning. Today marks the 25th anniversary of the nagano-seibu-jishin 長野西部地震--Western Nagano Earthquake . The magnitude 6.8 earthquake struck at 8:48 AM on the morning of September 14th, 1984. The epicenter was located about 5 kilometers from the center of Otaki village. The jolt caused a section of earth from Mt. Ontake's southeastern slope to dislodge and it roared down the mountain and into the Otaki Valley at a ferocious pace. 29 people lost their lives in the quake. This morning, at 8:48 AM a siren rang out in the village and we all hung our heads in silence to remember the dead. On the southeastern slope of Mt. Ontake, a mountain that is beloved and revered by village residents, there remains an enormous wound of crumbling rock, which serves as a reminder of the unpredictible power of the natural world. As the siren ran...

After a turbulent summer of rainy weather the skies over Otaki have stabilized, bringing to the heavens blues as deep as lapis lazuli. Temperatures, on the other hand, have de-stabilized, a pattern I recognize from last year's fall and this year's spring--a battling of the seasons that we humans get caught in the middle of. Although I know the ultimate winner of the scrimmage now under way--fall and then winter--the bright rays of the noon sun pelt down and fool me into thinking the outcome might, just this one year, be different. Warm days cool nights farmers worry, survey, adjust, re-adjust, worry; like crossing a river upon slick stones. Simple greetings: "how's the weather?" take on weight and bend like stalks of rice in the flat light that crawls down the Otaki valley.

"Probably with my generation the village will go back to forest." This quote is from an August 23rd Japan Times article by independant journalist, Winifred Bird, in which she offers an account of what she dubs "Japan's creeping natural disaster"--the loss of satoyama 里山 landscape in Japan's rural areas. Find the original article here . In her article Bird points out what I would argue are the two major causes of rural landscape transformation in Japan. The first, heavy over-cutting of mixed and broadleaf forests followed by afforestation using timber varieties in the second half of the last century. The second, rapid urbanization accompanied by mass migration of residents from rural to metropolitan communities. The result has been an unprecedented conversion away from human-managed satoyama landscapes, which fostered a mosaic of diverse eco-tones, to often uniform, un-managed plantation-style forests that are increasingly overgrown. The abandoned hom...