24. 麦秋至: "Barley Matures"

(BGM: "Fields Of Gold" by Sting)

Shichijuni-kou (72 Seasons) Calendar Listing
 初夏 Shoka: "Early Summer"
Season No. 8: 小満, Shouman: 
"Grain Full" 

Shouman: the time of year when farmers can hope to see kernals forming in the "ears" of cereal crops such as wheat and barley. This sign allows them to heave a little sigh of relief, hence the term "shou-man," or "small satisfaction."

Climate No. 24: 麦秋至
Mugi Notoki Itaru
"Barley Matures"
(May 31 -June 4) 

It seems like just weeks ago when the landscape changed from lifeless brown and gray to the pulsating, energizing freshness of new green. But the sudden sight of autumnal gold and orange amidst watery fields of rice seedlings can be an unexpected shock. (Weren't we in summer a moment ago?)

Field of Ripened Barley in June Rains (Hikone, Shiga)

One afternoon while taking our daily stroll around the rice paddies of eastern Shiga, we were lucky to have a conversation with a friendly-faced and slightly bilingual farmer about Japan's grain-growing industries. He told us that barley (Jpn: mugi 麦) was a subsidised crop that he grew on occasion to condition the soil of his rice paddies. (He said he also grew it for cattle feed, since barley makes Ohmi beef especially tasty).

Barley ready for harvest (Yasu, Shiga)

In recent decades, despite its historical importance as a staple food in Japan, barley production has stalled and today the country imports more of the grain than it grows. What is grown is used primarily for feed and beverages, including mugicha (麦茶, barley tea), shochu (焼酎, a distilled alcoholic beverage) and the national favorite: beer -something that tastes just perfect on a hot summer night!

It was fun to imagine what that particular field of barley was destined to become. We asked but the farmer wouldn't tell us. Sometimes, it's good to be left hanging. It teaches patience. He did practice his English with me a little bit, and his desire to communicate was somehow enough. I don't need to know everything.

Bird Of The Season: イソヒヨドリ, Isohiyodori, Blue Rock Thrush

Male Blue Rock Thrush (Source: Wikipedia, a Public Domain Image)

Down here in the Chugoku region, there's a sweet little bird with an incredibly big voice. Strikingly similar to a robin in size, coloring and vocal ability, the blue rock thrush (Monticola solitarius) sits on rooftops, rocky outcrops and seawalls, crooning its soulful melody at dawn, dusk and between the rains. Its song is teasing, lilting and slightly feminine. Whenever I hear one belting out a ditty on my neighbor's old TV antenna, I can't help but stop what I'm doing, pull up a chair and just relish the aural experience.

Male blue rock thrushes are particularly loud this time of the year, as if the rains are putting the pressure on them to hurry up with finding a partner -and competition's fierce. I always see them standing by themselves, spaced yards apart from one another, chirping lonesome and friendless on the same stretch of seawall. Perhaps their loner reputation explains their name solitarius. Despite their tendency towards self-isolation, I'm always rooting for them; they're much too charming to lose out on the race to procreate. For now, their numbers aren't in any danger of extinction. May this continue to be the case for generations to come.

Flower Of The Season: 葵, Aoi, Hollyhock 

A natural hollyhock "fence" edges a parking lot in Miyoshi, Hiroshima.

"All day in gray rain
   The hollyhocks follow
     The sun's invisible road."    -Matsuo Basho 

Red giant complete with starburst in the center (Sera, Hiroshima).

Used in family crests and seals as a symbol of the Tokugawa Shogunate, and heralded today in Kyoto's Aoi Matsuri (Hollyhock Festival) this overloaded physical impossibility of a flower is a symbol of power and strength. Though some might disagree, more than hydrangeas, the hollyhock (Alcea rocacea) is the quintessential sundial (or clock, if you will) of the rainy season.

Hollyhocks bolt up quicker than lightning right after the last yaezakura cherry trees have finished blooming. By the time the rainy season begins, the flowers have already bloomed half-way up their towering 5-foot stalks. When the rains subside and the sultry, unforgiving heat of late summer kicks in, the blossoms are already on their way out, dropping off limp and spent like deflated balloons released of their air.

As Basho seemed to imply in his haiku, hollyhocks look as if they just don't give a darn about the rain, or anything else for that matter. Running on their own time, they keep right on track and stay focused on a sun they can't see -a perfect example of concentration and dilligence. And of course, this means yet another lesson for me: if I believe that I'm doing all I can in this moment, keeping my eyes locked on my goal (but making definite action in the present towards that goal), good things will come of it, surely.

 Hollyhock being tickled by an inch-long bumble bee (Miyoshi, Hiroshima)

Copyright 2014 Genkilee, Gen. All rights reserved. No part of this blog (written or photo content) may be reproduced or reprinted without the expressed permission of the author.

23. 紅花栄: "The Safflower Blooms"

(BGM: "Feel" by Robbie Williams)

Shichijuni-kou (72 Seasons) Calendar Listing
 初夏 Shoka: "Early Summer"
Season No. 8: 小満, Shouman: 
"Grain Full" 

Shouman: the time of year when farmers can hope to see kernals forming in the "ears" of cereal crops such as wheat and barley. This sign allows them to heave a small sigh of relief, hence the term "shou-man," or "small satisfaction."

Climate No. 23: 紅花栄
Benibana Saku
"The Safflower Blooms"
(May 26 -May 30) 

The happiest little flower I've ever seen!

"Eye brow brushes
   Come to mind
     Safflower blossoms."  -Matsuo Basho 


Back in Alaska, I once ordered a packet of safflower seeds from a California-based seed company and tried planting them, completely disregarding the kind of soil or climate they would need. I didn't see any sprouts for the entire season and figured they were duds. But the following summer, I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw in my greenhouse a full-grown safflower right there in the dirt below the shelf where I had originally planted the seeds! Despite all odds, one grew for me! Talk about a survivor! 

Safflower (Jpn: 紅花 beninbana, Carthamus tinctorius), has played an important role in Japan's art culture for centuries. Their densely-colored spiky flower heads of happy, reddish-orange and mustard yellow petals produce a fine crimson oil known as "Kyo-beni," which was once employed to color the lips of geishas. According to history, the deep red dye paste "kurenai" made from safflower was once so coveted by Japan's elite that it was said to be more precious than gold!

In greater demand today as a source of oil than a clothing dye, safflower cultivation still continues along the gentle, sloping mountainsides of Yamagata Prefecture. Set in rural Yamagata, the delightlfully realistic 1991 Ghibli animated film  "Omohide Poroporo" (Eng: "Only Yesterday") features the story of a young Tokyoite woman who takes a summer off to pick safflower blossoms in the tempermental rains of early summer. The process of harvesting and processing safflower pulp is gorgeously illustrated in painstaking detail, giving the viewer a real sense of appreciation for all the hard work involved.

"Benibana" (C) Gen, Genkilee 2014 (Digital Watercolor On Photo)

Time, exposure to nature and the slow life all help the leading character to address and heal from painful childhood memories. The safflower seems particularly significant as a recurring theme in the movie, plain in appearance yet precious for its potential -symbolic of both the pain and beauty of life.

May I be as cheerful as the safflower in my own rainy seasons!

Taste Of The Season: さくらんぼ, Sakuranbo, Cherries

Ripe and ready to eat! (Yamagata City, Yamagata Prefecture)

Plump and juicy, these sweet little treasures are just in season now. Japan has several species of edible cherry. But the most famous can be found in, you guessed it: Yamagata Prefecture, where 70% of the country's cherries are grown.

The Fruitful Mountainsides of Yamagata Wrapped In Rain (2004)

I was invited by some dear friends to join them for a fun-filled day of cherry picking! We packed up the minivan with food and drinks and cruised up Route 8 through Fukushima Prefecture. We took a left through Tochigi around a still-steaming Mt. Nasu and ended up in the gentle, greenhouse-covered valleys of Yamagata City. We rolled into town right at daybreak.

Only a tiny bit of snow was still visible on the tallest peaks of the Alps to the north, but otherwise we were surrounded in a sea of glittering emerald and spring greens. The air was intoxicating with a soothing fragrance blowing in from the distant tree-covered mountains. It shook the insomnia out of me like a strong cup of coffee.

The smile on my friend's face is as sweet as the cherries!

Tying woven bamboo baskets around our waists, we balanced carefully on metal ladders to get to the highest possible treetops and carefully plucked the jewel-toned ruby orbs of juicy delight. Though we were told to put the reddest ones in our baskets, the cherries coyly beckoned us to revel in their tangy sweetness.

"Suppai! Suppai!" ("sour!") my friends muttered, mouths full of saliva and seeds that they'd spit on the ground one after another. Though it sounded like complaint, the joy written on their faces told me they were in cherry heaven. More seeds were on the tarp below than there were cherries in their baskets!

We laughed and picked under the hot greenhouse sun, surrounded in steam rising from the cool early afternoon earth. The sun played a vigorous game of hide-and-seek with the clouds, revealing itself after a few teasing drops of rain which would splatter on the overhead plastic sheeting. Below us, tiny juvenile tree frogs would hop lightly on the plastic tarp, making the most endearing rubbery, sticky sounds that punctuated their bell-like chirps. When our stomachs became painfully full of cherries, we concentrated on our real job of helping bring in the year's harvest.

Carefully sorting the cherries (Yamagata City, 2004)

The sorting was left to the experts as we rested in the farmhouse with ice-cold glasses of smoky, thirst-quenching barley tea (麦茶 mugicha). We watched as deft, discriminating hands sifted through the fruits of our labor, packing the prettier ones in fancy boxes while leaving us with the lower-grade cherries to enjoy on the way home. Our portions were much larger than what they'd reserved for gifts and we couldn't have been happier!

Whether our picking was that bad, or the Grannie of the House was feeling generous, we don't know. But one thing is sure true: each of us had wrapped in our hands over 3,000 yen's worth of Yamagata cherries! 

Life is sweet, indeed!

Copyright 2014 Genkilee, Gen. All rights reserved. No part of this blog (written or photo content) may be reproduced or reprinted without the expressed permission of the author.

22. 蚕起食桑: "Silkworms Eat The Mulberry Leaves"

(BGM: "Caterpillar" by The Cure)

Shichijuni-kou (72 Seasons) Calendar Listing
 初夏 Shoka: "Early Summer"
Season No. 8: 小満, Shouman: 
"Grain Full" 

Shouman: the time of year when farmers can hope to see kernals forming in the "ears" of cereal crops such as wheat and barley. This sign allows them to heave a small sigh of relief, hence the term "shou-man," or "small satisfaction."

Climate No. 22: 蚕起食桑
Kaiko Okite Kuwa Wo Hamu
"Silkworms Eat The Mulberry Leaves"
(May 21 -May 25) 

Silkworms. (Source: Wikipedia, a Public Domain Image)

Japan has a long, rich history of silk production (sericulture), spanning from the 7th century AD to the mid 1970's. Though recent decades have seen a worrying decline in production, Japan's sericulture industry might get a well-needed boost thanks to rekindled government interest in silk's many applications beyond clothing.

"Crawl out here!
   Under the silkworm nursery
     The croak of a toad."  -Matsuo Basho

Walking through an average Japanese drugstore, it's easy to see how the demand for silk products has changed over the years. The hair and skin care aisles are well-stocked with shampoos, conditioners and facial masks containing silk proteins as a key softening agent.

A couple years ago, while lurching around our local Tsuruha for a collagen mask to soothe my scaly, winter-worn skin, I was surprised to find a package of silk cocoons! Called "silk balls," they're actual chrysalides touted to remove blackheads and oil while softening the skin!

Silk Balls By Rira Company (Product of Korea)

Using them is fun and simple: just soak one silk ball for few minutes in hot water, place it on your pointer finger and gently scrub in tiny circular motions over a wet, washed T-zone! Presto!

After just one use, I noticed a very pleasing velvety plushness on my cheeks like peach fuzz that I hadn't felt in years! The idea of caterpillars contributing to the beautifying of my face was eye-opening to say the least!

On the Korean Peninsula, where sericulture is has a stronger foothold than in Japan, silkworm larvae contributes to health in a more sinister, yet delicious way. Known as beondegi (Kor: 번데기), the helpless pupae are boiled by street vendors in a soy sauce broth and served piping-hot in white paper cups to the hungry masses as a high-protein snack food.

While strolling leisurely arm-in-arm with my Korean Hubby down Nandaemun Market in Seoul, we chanced upon a beondegi vendor slowly stirring his steamy, wicked cauldron promising us relief from the subzero cold. I just had to try them, especially when Hubby piped that the little pupae were "particularly good for women's skin."

Cup O' Bugs, anyone?

Having lived for over a decade in a country where people will eat just about anything, I was no longer freaked out by the idea of consuming insects. With hot white cup in hand, I speared the plump, bloated carcass of a tiny pupa and popped it into my mouth. To the teeth, the casing was smooth and thin like the skin of a cooked kidney bean. Biting through it with a slight popping sensation, my teeth eased into the flesh: powdery with a startchy softness (think of mashed potato if that helps). The first taste was undeniably meaty in nature. But the aftertaste was a beautiful cross between honey, rose petals and legume starch. Unlike this unfortunate woman whose experience with beondegi was less than pleasant, I finished the whole serving and would've gone back for a second cup had the treat been less filling.

Critter Of The Season: 毛虫, Kemushi, Caterpillars  

I realize that insects in general tend to gross people out. But part of the joy in working with the old Chinese solar calendar is learning how to appreciate the overlooked, and caterpillars are seriously due their day in the sun. I can't help but be fascinated by the ethereal, dare I say "holy" transformation that caterpillars undertake, as if born twice in one lifetime. Culturally, we in the West are trained so see caterpillars as "grotesque" and the butterfly stage as "beautiful," but how arrogant of our species to judge another!

Hummingbird Hawk Moth (Macroglossum pyrrhosticta) Caterpillar (C) 2010 Gen, Genkilee, All Rights Reserved)

Literally translated as "hairy insect," the term kemushi is a general term applying to all caterpillars, even those without hair. My life in Japan has afforded me the chance to see a dizzying array of fashion-forward lepidoptera in both stages, and they all fascinate me to no end. The more I educate myself on these mystifying creatures, the more I can appreciate them for exactly how they are in the present moment, no matter what stage of their development. (Consequently, this helps me to appreciate people in the same way). ;-)

Here are few beauties I recently spotted on my afternoon walks:

Mourning Cloak Butterfly (Nymphalis antiopa)

(c) 2014 Gen, Genkilee, All Rights Reserved

Clearwing Hawk Moth (Cephonodes hylas)

(c) 2014 Gen, Genkilee, All Rights Reserved

Euthrix Moth (Euthrix albomaculata)

(c) 2010 Gen, Genkilee, All Rights Reserved

Flower Of The Season: 紫陽花, Ajisai, Hydrangea 

Hydrangea (Iwakuni, Yamaguchi Prefecture)

With the onset of the rainy season (Jpn: 梅雨 tsuyu), these fluffy floral pompons burst with luminescent pastel colors echoing the insides of an abalone shell. The various shades of purple, blue and pink on a single petal bleed together effortlessly, like watercolors mixing on wet mulberry paper.

Freeform Color (Otake, Hiroshima Prefecture)

In Japan, the hydrangea is synonymous with tsuyu (梅雨), the rainy season that lasts from the middle of May to the beginning of July. Many hydrangeas bloom well before the rain fronts blanket the land in a thick misty veil. This is the best time to catch hydrangeas before taking pictures becomes a challenge. Sometimes, I get lucky.

Hydrangea With Tiny Cricket (Mt. Ibuki, Shiga)

No matter what the weather, there's great pleasure to be enjoyed in every season. Nature is a neverending source of sensual delights and learning. It is my art gallery and library. As I continue my training in awareness of the natural world around me, every walk down my driveway reveals new secrets, new clues to questions long asked in my childhood. It's always a satisfying feeling when knowledge and appreciation are increased, as if heart and mind are in bloom with the flowers.

And to think that I'm attempting to describe just one pixel of an entire picture! If any of you Readers are tempted to start your own 72-seasons calendar based on the ecosystem of where you live, please drop a line (and a link!) about it in the Comments section! I'll be sure to feature your link on my homepage! :-)

Happy Blogging!

Gen.

Copyright 2014 Genkilee, Gen. All rights reserved. No part of this blog (written or photo content) may be reproduced or reprinted without the expressed permission of the author.

21. 竹笋生: "Bamboo Shoots Up"

(BGM: "A Rose In The Wind" by Anggun)

Shichijuni-kou (72 Seasons) Calendar Listing
 初夏 Shoka: "Early Summer"
Season No. 7: 立夏, Rikka: 
"The Start Of Summer" 

According to the website theworldofchinese.com, the season rikka (from the Chinese lixia or "start of summer"), was traditionally celebrated by the eating of "red eggs" (double hard-boiled eggs cooked in black tea powder) to help strengthen the heart against summer heat.

Perhaps a lingering tradition borne of this Chinese custom, eggs in some form continue to top the ever-popular summer dish hiyashi chukka (冷やし中華) -ramen noodles served cold with shredded ham, julienned cucumbers, tomatoes and other cool additions. Any food that can soothe an overheated body is welcome this time of year! It's getting hot out there!

Climate No. 21: 竹笋生
Takenoko Shouzu
"Bamboo Shoots Up"
(May 15 -May 20) 

Bamboo shoots in a planter on display for the "Bamboo Festival" (Takehara, Hiroshima)

The first time I ever saw bamboo (竹 take), in the words of Matsuo Basho, "my sleeve became wet with tears." My host sister from Kyushu had taken me to the bamboo grove near her house where she used to play as a kid. The smooth, bright-green stalks as straight as pencils towered over us, with their spear-shaped feathery plumes swishing gracefully overhead in the winter breeze. Whenever a strong gust blew through, the tops of the bamboo knocked together, making a delightful music like wooden windchimes.

The famous Chikurin Bamboo Grove behind Tenryuji Temple, Arashiyama (Kyoto).

I was astonished by the strength and flexibility of these fantastic plants; the visual impact alone was enough to move me. But in my mind, they were also the ultimate symbol of the Far East. And there among real bamboo (not the unrelated and misnamed "lucky bamboo" sold in the States), I felt as if I had finally come home.

Me holding a felled stalk of young bamboo I found on the ground, still soft and pliable like rubber and covered in its fuzzy, protective husk. (Bamboo Joy Highland Park, Takehara, Hiroshima)

Bamboo is a much-celebrated plant in Japanese culture for its beauty and usefulness. To give you an idea of how much bamboo one can use in a single day, here's a short list of ten random ways I encounter it in my everyday life. In an average day, I...

1. Add bamboo salt (竹塩 takeshio) to my cooking.
2. Rest on a bamboo mat (竹シートtakesheet) to keep cool.
3. Use a bamboo scratcher (竹バックスクラッtチャー take bakkusukurattcha) when my back itches.
4. Use bamboo chopsticks (おはし ohashi) to eat with (nice ones, not disposable).
5. Cool myself with a bamboo folding fan (扇子 sensu).
6. Wash with bamboo charcoal soap (竹炭石鹸 takesumi sekken).
7. Place bamboo charcoal (竹炭 takesumi) under my sink and in the fridge to absorb odors and moisture.
8. Practice painting with bamboo brushes (竹筆 chikuhitsu).
9. Use a bamboo paddle (しゃもじ shamoji) to serve my rice.
10. Eat bamboo shoots (竹の子 takenoko) stir-fried with vegetables.

A dense bamboo thicket in Tamari, Takehara (Hiroshima Prefecture).

Bamboo has always played an important role throughout my life in Japan. I look to it for personal reminders of the reasons why I stay in this country. Their steadfast, evergreen stalks help me visualize how I wish to be as I grow older: strong, yet flexible enough to bend in the howling wind without snapping. When I feel particularly down or stressed about something, a walk through a bamboo thicket refreshes me like a cup of matcha tea, bright with cheerful positivity. It is the one plant I contemplate and meditate upon, visually soothing and serene.

 "A cuckoo cries, 
   And through a thicket of bamboo, 
     The late moon shines."  -Matsuo Basho

A secret bamboo trail in Takehara, Hiroshima.

If nature is a teacher, then bamboo must be the headmaster. I'll try to be a good student. ;-)

Taste Of The Season: 竹の子, Takenoko, Bamboo Shoots 

Grilled bamboo shoot with special Takehara miso and pickles (Kampo No Yado, Takehara, Hiroshima).

In the States, when we hear the word "bamboo shoots," we automatically recall little tin cans or glass jars with corny, pseudo-Chinese names, filled with slimy yellow slices of bitter, metallic fibrous mush.

I gotta put my foot down, here. That is not how they're supposed to taste!

Braised takenoko in sake broth. (A sweet present from a sushi chef in Takehara, Hiroshima).

When preserved in water and subject to an unnatural supermarket shelf life, bamboo shoots are robbed of all the sugars that give them their sweet, slightly caramel nuttiness. If harvested and prepared properly, the taste is smooth and gentle (definitely NOT bitter or tangy!) with the texture of perfectly-cooked carrot. This culinarily versatile food can be served a myriad number of scrumptious ways: tossed in stir-fries and stews, steamed in rice dishes or grilled over hot coals.

I was treated last year to a fantastic meal at Kampo No Yado (広島県竹原市湯坂温泉かんぽの宿), a hot springs resort with a restaurant featuring local delicacies from around Hiroshima and the Chugoku region. Gracing the menu were fresh-picked bamboo shoots from Takehara, a city famous for (and named after) its seemingly endless bamboo forests. (Takehara hosts bamboo festivals in both summer and winter). It was one of the most memorable meals I've had in Japan, finished off with a small cupful of precious Taketsuru sake brewed just around the mountain.

A few of the many dishes I enjoyed at Kampo no Yado in Takehara, Hiroshima.

If you have access to fresh bamboo, it's worth trying out a few recipes of this nutritious, delectable vegetable. An invaluable natural resource, bamboo is definitely food for both body and mind.

Copyright 2014 Genkilee, Gen. All rights reserved. No part of this blog (written or photo content) may be reproduced or reprinted without the expressed permission of the author.

20. 蚯蚓出: The Earthworms Emerge"

(BGM: "This Corner Of The Earth" by Jamiroquai)

  
Shichijuni-kou (72 Seasons) Calendar Listing
 初夏 Shoka: "Early Summer"
Season No. 7: 立夏, Rikka: 
"The Start Of Summer" 

A field of azalea hugs a steep mountainside at Chigo Park (Kure, Hiroshima).

Climate No. 20. 蚯蚓出
Mimizu Deru:
"The Earthworms Emerge"
(May 10 -May 14)

It seems as if the world is on fire. Thousands of acres in the US, Canada and Russia are going up in flames as I write, including my old stomping grounds in Alaska. Unusually warm May temperatures have caused flooding in much of Europe and drought conditions in India. My heart heaves a sigh of great worry.

Yet down here in south central Japan, the skies are blue, calm and forgiving. Any rain that has fallen has been brief and timely. And just as the old Shichijuni-kou calendar predicted, earthworms have chosen this week to crawl out of their earthy beds and risk drying to a crisp in the stinging noon sun.

A lack-lustre pic of an earthworm. Sometimes, the mundane is good for the soul. (Mihara, Hiroshima)

"The early bird gets the worm," or so goes the old saying. Perhaps the early birds already got their worms for the year! Either that or there hasn't been enough rain to make them come out en masse and give me a more impressive photo. So again, this blog post is "for the birds." (Sorry. I can't help it. ;-) But the "week of the earthworm" has been an undeniable season of tested patience for me.

By observing the mood of my blogs, one would incorrectly assume that all is fuzzy bunnies and rainbows in my happy little universe. Not so. Sometimes, Mother Nature is a biotch out to get me, and that was the case this past week. With poisonous snakes attacking my ankles, giant centipedes practically falling into my lap and lethal wasps staring me down on remote mountaintops, I was NOT the happiest camper out there. It's a dog-eat-dog world, with mass death and consumption everywhere. And sometimes, Nature is just downright rude!

Bird Of The Season: ホトトギス, Hototogisu, Lesser Cuckoo

When I first moved to the Chugoku region of Japan, I was delighted to have a break away from the ear-piercing screech of Brown-eared Bulbuls -cute but annoying birds that like to crank up the mic as early as 4:30am, when nobody in their right mind would want to get up.

But Mother Nature wouldn't let me off the hook so easily. One late spring night in Hiroshima at 11:00pm, just as I was about to drift off into Dreamland, I heard this repetitive, irritating high-pitched laughter that sounded like giggling, undulating from the forest two streets behind me. I felt the blood boil in my veins as I contemplated which unlucky neighbor child would be blowing his last funny whistle of the night. But when I learned that it was a birdcall and not a prank, my ruffled feathers smoothed down, annoyance melting swiftly into appreciation. The sound was coming from a Lesser Cuckoo (Cuculus poliocephalus)! Somehow, the idea of being kept awake by a playful cuckoo seemed much better than the early morning torture I'd always suffer at the throat of the thoughtless bulbul, who would strategically choose the laundry pole just outside my bedroom window to perch on and annoy me. (Shooing it away never phased it. It would be back the next morning -pooping on my lawn chair just to spite me).

Anyways (ahem), the Lesser Cuckoo has a long claim to fame in Japan, having been deemed the favorite bird of legendary writer Sei Shonagon and more recently, mentioned in the works of my favorite poet to walk the earth:

"Spring rock azaleas
   Colored by his tears
    Lesser cuckoo."      -Matsuo Basho

A friendly birder from Nagoya spotting cuckoos in Shiga Prefecture.

Far from the threat of extinction, the range of the Lesser Cuckoo spans most of the Eastern Hemisphere, including much of Russia and parts of Africa. Japan is home to several species of cuckoo, including the "classic" Cuckoo (Cuculus canorus, with its iconic, comedic call used for both insults and sound effects), and the Oriental Cuckoo (Cuculus saturatus).

The picturesque home of a lucky Oriental Cuckoo (Ohmi Takayama, Shiga)

Cuckoos tend to be highly territorial, perching lone in the same trees year after year. I was fortunate to watch an Oriental Cuckoo circling its territory through the pricey telescopic lens of a birder's professional-grade camera. (Of course, I could only take the photo with my out-dated iPhone).

An Oriental Cuckoo next to a late-blooming plum (Ohmi Takayama, Shiga)

Thinking about bulbuls, hornets and centipedes, I realize that I don't have to like everything out there in the universe. According to science, I even have encoded in my DNA natural aversions to certain tastes, smells and sights! Perhaps the sound of the poor, innocent bulbul is one of them, and that's okay. I don't really judge it as "evil." It's just another creature trying to survive in a harsh world, and in that respect we're two of a kind.

But if there's anything I've come to understand, it's this: the more you learn about something, the quicker the road to acceptance unscrolls before you. Had I not followed up that night-time birdcall with an Internet search, I never would've discovered the delight of hearing my first cuckoo. Without learning about Huntsman Spiders, I never would've found the brevity to use that bathroom last week with one stuck to the wall right behind me. It all makes for cool stories on social media sites, anyways. And one can never have too many of those.

It really does pay to be patient.

Flower Of The Season: つつじ, Tsutsuji, Azalea (Rhododendron)

Vibrant azeleas with blossoms over 3 inches wide (Kure, Hiroshima).

Speaking of deadly, scary things, the lush, exotic and highly toxic azalea (genus Rhododendron) is one of Japan's most prominent cultivated hedge plants, decorating yards and sidewalks of businesses, banks and government buildings in nearly every city. On one of my mountain hikes in Kawajiri, Kure (the place where that snake tried to nip me), my husband and I were stunned speechless at the sight of this dazzling array of lovingly-pruned azaleas spreading out towards the Seto Inland Sea. The colors were so intense in the sunlight that we could see them from several islands away.

Black bumble bees immune to the azelea's highly toxic nectar (Kure, Hiroshima).

Though many decorative trees and shrubs (like hydrangeas and iris) are poisonous, this lovely femme fatale of the flower kingdom is particularly worthy of respect. Only 3 ml of the nectar is enough to cause extreme toxic shock or death. Even honey made from the plant can cause paralysis and convulsions in humans. (I don't think I'll be adding azalea leaves or blossoms to my salad anytime soon).

But they sure are a feast for the eyes! The azaleas are at their best for several weeks starting in mid-May and rapidly begin to drop to the ground by early June. The farther north you go in Japan, the longer your opportunity to see these gorgeous flowers.

Just be careful out there. The world is a pretty wild place! ;-) 

Copyright 2014 Genkilee, Gen. All rights reserved. No part of this blog (written or photo content) may be reproduced or reprinted without the expressed permission of the author.

19. 蛙始鳴: "Frogs Begin To Sing"

(BGM: "Hanasaku Tabiji" by Yuko Hara)

Shichijuni-kou (72 Seasons) Calendar Listing
 初夏 Shoka: "Early Summer"
Season No. 7: 立夏, Rikka: 
"The Start Of Summer" 

The daytime air is warm continuously, now. Heaters and fuzzy blankets are stowed away, no longer needed. But the rainy season is still a week off and the lack of moisture makes early summer life dry and comfortable. By the sea, a cool morning fog hangs over the waters, fading for awhile in the heat of day, only to reappear like a ghost in the evening. In mountain country, the night air is sweet with the intoxicating mix of cedar, pine and cypress, sharp and cooling in the nose like a whiff of mint ice cream. And everywhere in Japan, the evening air is filled with song.

Climate No.19. 蛙始鳴
Kaeru Hajimete Naku:
"Frogs Begin To Sing"
(May 5 -May 9)

A friendly face (Nagahama, Shiga).

I had my first encounter with the amagaeru (雨蛙, Japanese tree frog, Hyla japonica) when I lived in southern Ibaraki. My apartment was a mere forty steps away from a series of rice paddies. One night, while walking home from work, I was alarmed by the deafening chirp emanating from these flat fields of muddy water. Stopping at a brightly-lit vending machine for a bottle of unsweetened green tea, I saw three tiny, exquisite green frogs clinging to the glowing clear plastic like rubber figurines. I caught one in my hand and as it desperately prodded my fingers with its nose for an opening through which to escape, I fell instantly in love with the little creature. Cupping my hands, I carefully carried him home, let him hop into a clean tupperware container, and returned to the paddy to collect more, easily scooping them off the muddy paddy ledge in the glowing moonlight.

"Cling" (Tone, Ibaraki)

My heart pounding from the thrill of possibly being caught and branded a "strange foreigner," I scurried home with my box of frogs, set it on my kitchen table and turned off the apartment lights. Sure enough, within five minutes of silent darkness, they began to sing that same ear-piercing yet endearing melody. Satisfied with my discovery, yet concerned the noise might upset my neighbors (as Japanese apartment walls are uninsulated and rather thin), I snuck back out to the paddy and quickly released the frogs where I found them, wondering what they were going to say to their other froggy friends.

A very patient amagaeru (Japanese tree frog) hanging out with my pet turtle Shippo-chan.

Throughout the year, I would catch the occasional amagaeru and let him enjoy the insects and plants around my apartment for an hour or two, before releasing them back into the paddy. They swiftly became my favorite animal.

The Experiment: Raising Tree Frogs From Tadpole To Adult

A juvenile amagaeru I raised from a tadpole in my living room. :-) (June 2005, Tone, Ibaraki)

A flowershop owner friend of mine knew I loved tree frogs and presented me with a paper cup containing 6 tadpoles! What on earth was I to do with them? She told me to just put them in a bowl of clean tapwater with a few floating plants (which she kindly provided for free). For food, I was to feed them live mosquitos. But that idea didn't sound appealing to me at all.

Fortunately, a co-worker told me that her kids successfully raise tadpoles on a no-frills diet of boiled, mashed spinach. All I had to do was drop a few pinches of spinach pulp into the water whenever the critters looked hungry. Only after a few weeks of feeding them, their legs had sprouted and they started crawling on their own out of the water and onto the sides of the bowl. At this point, I supplied them with any winged thing that entered my apartment. As soon as their tails shrank up and disappeared, I set them free, placing them on a paddy ledge and grinning from ear to ear. I couldn't have been a prouder surrogate froggy mom!

Frog Heaven! Ancient stone-edged, terraced ricefields in Takashima, Shiga.

 In Japan's rice country, the dry, earthy landscape transforms virtually overnight into a world of watery mirrors as the paddies are systematically flooded and planted. The frogs are a welcome, integral link in the paddies' ecosystem, keeping the mud supple and fertilized. Their tadpoles eat algae that would otherwise rob the young seedlings of precious nutrients and growing space, while the adults feast on harmful winged insects. The nightly chorus of a rice paddy exploding in song is a prayer for a good year's crop.

It's always a boon whenever I spot these precious water babies. To me, they're the perfect example of flexibility and resilience as they move effortlessly between the worlds of land and water. May I be just as fluid in my own life.

"An old pond; 
  The frog jumps in.
       'Plop!'"         -Matsuo Basho

Taste of the Season: サザエ, Sazae, Horned Turban (Turbo Snail)

A delectable Turbo cornutus (horned turban) grilled to perfection at Namiki Cafe (Kure, Hiroshima).

All along the beaches of the Seto Inland Sea, elderly men with long metal picks and net sacks can be seen surveying stinky, slippery tidepools and rocky outcrops at low tide. Their prize: the tasty sazae (horned turban), large sea snails with elegant spiral shells that measure over 3 inches wide. Scooting slowly on their "stomach feet," the snails scrape off and eat algae and seaweed clinging to rocks along the intertidal zone.  

Hunting sea snails on the beach (Akitsu, Higashi Hiroshima).

Sazae taste like the sensuous lovechild of a clam and an oyster, but with a pleasing springy texture reminiscent of boiled octopus. A common gastropod found all over Japan, their cone-shaped, gnarly shells dot the light orange beaches, some hollowed out from a hungry heron or octopus. In Japan, sazae are most commonly enjoyed by humans raw and sliced as sashimi, or cooked in their shells (tsuboyaki).

Two wrasses swim in a tank full of ill-fated sazae (turbo snails).

Since they're a plentiful, inexpensive delicacy where we live, the Hubby and I treated ourselves to one sazae each, served tsuboyaki-style. The chef at the Namiki Cafe yanked a helpless snail out of the aquarium beside our table, poured o-sake (Japanese rice wine) inside the shell, and replaced the operculum (the snail's natural shield cover) over the hole. He then set it on a sizzling BBQ and within a few minutes, served it to us juicy and bubbling!

When he finished serving us our sazae, the chef jumped off the patio onto the sandy beach and began retrieving a few snails that escaped the tank the night before.  "I have to do this every day. They're smart," he said. "They know the sea is nearby."

It made us think twice about our meal, but only for a moment. With a bamboo skewer, we dislodged the operculum and pulled out the curled, twisted balloon of cooked flesh. The chef said we could eat the whole thing, intestines and all. It was only a biteful, but a pleasant experience soon to be repeated.

Ah, summer! 

Copyright 2014 Genkilee, Gen. All rights reserved. No part of this blog (written or photo content) may be reproduced or reprinted without the expressed permission of the author.