In the Pines

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...

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.

A couple of days before I left for a trip to the U.S., S-san invited me to come by to see her family's waterwheel and mill. I thought I might be too late, but she assured me they would be using the wheel into the first week of December. I arrived at S-san's on a sunny Wednesday morning. She said she had just been on her way to grind some rice, so the timing was good. S-san's family owns the only waterwheel that remains in Otaki, though it appears that in the past many families operated their own wheels. Every year family's from all over the village bring rice to be ground into flour for making dango , manju and other treats. After briefly showing me the contents of the wheel-house, S-san walked up above to open and close gate s in order to divert water to the wheel. The sound of rushing water that had been constant since I arrived paused. A moment later it resumed. And, a moment after that, water began spewing from the mouth of a pipe situated next to the wheel...

The hills around Otaki are fully green now. One can easily distinguish squared patches of planted pine trees among the more brilliant greens of the broadleaf varieties. The snows-lines on the Southern Alps and on Ontake-san creep ever higher, as if enticing me to see what lies in wait. The few paddies in Otaki are now being prepared and planted. The rich, muddy waters, having been thoroughly stirred with the stern whisks of tractor rotors, sit in contemplation, reflecting the azure of the sky and the slow crawl of the nimbus clouds. Playful shoots of rice, unsteady as fawns, wiggle in the breezes that flow down off Ontake-san's smooth slopes. Earlier in the week, I attended a lecture by an older resident who is a history buff and has, over the years, amassed a vast knowledge of Otaki's past, as well as a trove of artifacts. During the lecture I attended T-san talked about the history of Ontake-san as a religious mountain. Ontake-san was first "opened" as a relig...

Rain today. . .thin strings of mist rise up and out of the valleys, clinging to the tree tops before flowing into the gray swirl of clouds overhead. I spent the day yesterday introducing myself and talking with villagers. Most people were out working in their fields, so it was a bit difficult to interrupt. Also, it's hard to describe the look that comes over people's faces when a white guy suddenly walks up and begins speaking Japanese. So, I'm thinking I need to revise my tactics a bit. At the same time, in a town of 1,000 I'm sure that most people now know who I am, and have a semblance of what it is I'm up to. Because Ota ki used to be a forestry town, I haven't seen many rice paddies in production--though these may begin being planted towards the end of next month. Most people grow vegetables in fairly small field plots. Red turnips 赤かぶ are a major crop here, but planting must come later because I haven't seen any yet. Most people seem to be planti...