A change in the air

Everything depends on the weather

Dear friends,

Every morning I wake up, sleepy-eyed and stiff, and gently make my way outside. It’s become a morning practice to start the day outside to tend to the dogs, chicken, and my small garden. The dogs, also waking up from a night’s slumber, stretch downward dog and then run around the yard. I take these moments to attune myself to nature.

Fall seems like an incredibly precious time for observing change. If you really make the art of observation a daily ritual (especially in somewhere as nature-abundant as Kamikatsu) every single day brings a small change.

When I first came to Kamikatsu 2 years ago, I heard the local people say things like, the ‘air feels different, a heavy rain is coming’. They would notice the colours of leaves, and the migratory patterns of bugs and animals, and be able to combine this incredible natural wisdom with foretellings. They saw and felt things I didn’t yet (and still don’t) understand.

In the final days of summer towards the end of August, I hung my umeboshi (pickled plums) out in the sun for the final step of drying. I laid my brightly coloured umeboshi onto a bamboo colander and let them bask in the sun for several days.

white dew and shurin

Spending a much more considerable amount of time outside since moving to the countryside, I’m conscious that nature and its ecosystems are in constant motion— there is never stillness if you pay attention to its fluctuations and rhythms.

rice fields soon to be harvested

That’s probably why I’m drawn to the microseasonal calendar, an ancient Japanese calendar with 72 microseasons. The calendar takes Japan’s four broad sweeping seasons (summer, autumn, winter, and spring) and breaks them down into much smaller windows of time.

We have entered the microseason of White Dew, characterized by the droplets that form on the grass and leaves in the early morning. Temperatures are gradually falling and vapors in the air often condense into dew overnight. I can feel the small droplets on my feet when I step outside in my sandals.

gathering kuri, chestnuts, from the backyard

I’ve also noticed that spouts of rain and stormy weather are markers of seasonal transition. Natanezuyu is a long spell of rain in early spring that comes before the flowering cherry blossoms. While tsuyu, the main rainy season, comes before and shifts into the beginning of summer. Autumn is no exception with shurin being the transitional rain that marks the start of the new season.

Shurin coincides with the typhoon season from mid-September to the beginning of October. Kamikatsu is about to have a typhoon passing through in the next few days. To prepare, I’ve boarded my house up with planks of wood that were traditionally used to protect old houses again extreme weather. I stocked up on water, food, and repacked my emergency kit which has important things like a portable torch and radio, a first aid kit, a gas cookstove, and many others. I’m taking extra precautions and I hope other Japanese are staying safe in the midst of the storm.

sister in town

A very, very exciting personal update is that my sister, Mina, has moved to Kamikatsu! I have one sister, two years younger, and she has decided to take a year of rest from her work and spend time in Japan.

My sister and I grew up attached at the hip wearing matching outfits in different colours. A ‘best friend and sister’ relationship is something that few people get to enjoy, but if you know, you absolutely know how much of a gift it is to share such a special bond.

She moved to Kamikatsu (exactly a month ago) and she’ll be making this tiny village her home for her upcoming year of exploration, rest, and growth. Welcome to Kamikatsu, Mina!

my sister helps cook locally caught fish ayu, a sweet river fish with Kamikatsu local people

My sister shares stories of living in Kamikatsu in her newsletter. Living with her (again) and reading her writing is a poignant reminder that two people, sharing the same experience, can have such different perspectives. Her insight is hilarious and beautiful.

mid-autumn celebration

Two weekends ago, I celebrated the Autumnal equinox with a few friends in Kamikatsu. The 'Mid-Autumn Festival’ is widely celebrated in various Asian countries. Growing up, I don’t remember celebrating the Japanese traditions, but my father (from Hong Kong) would come home with mooncakes and we’d share them together. A single-moon cake would be large enough for our family to share. The mooncake could be divided into four neatly shaped quadrants. One lucky person would get a quarter slice with a salted egg on the inside, meant to represent the moon.

It was new for me to celebrate Otsukimi, the Japanese version of the Mid-Autumn Festival. Otsukimi (お月見), translates literally as “moon viewing”. Our friends and I gathered on a small picnic blanket and basked in the moonlight enjoying traditional foods like dango, rice cake. It was magical to gather outside in a dark place, we were far away from street lamps and most of what guided us through the evening was a small lamp and the moon herself.

enjoying otsukimi in Kamikatsu

other updates

A sad update: several weeks ago my rooster died (of natural causes). It was quite hot weather towards the tail end of summer, and it looked like it might have been too much for him. He was unharmed and didn’t seem in any pain when I found him lying down. I haven’t had the best relationship with the rooster (who attacked me), but it was wonderful to observe him and I’m grateful he took care of the hens who continue to lay eggs for me each morning.

eggs from the girls

On a more joyful note, the fourth episode of my podcast was released earlier this week. Our podcast is focused on sharing honest thoughts and experiences about living in the countryside of Japan—it’s an extension of this newsletter, so if podcasts are your thing, please do check it out!

Lastly, I think some of you came across this newsletter through an article, from the Japan Times, written by Patrick St Michel, and if you are here because of that piece—thank you for your beautiful curiosity. I am so grateful for you.

Have a wonderful week ahead, and attune yourself to the small changes in nature. Kana