Living in an old Japanese-style house
What i learned after a year in a kominka
Hello friends,
Welcome, June! A new month is a new beginning. There is a joy in turning the calendar page in anticipation of what’s to come.
June is a month of nostalgia. In Canada and many other countries, June is the month of celebrating graduations and the start of summer. It’s when the air feels noticeably warmer, dining outside under hanging patio lights is a common gathering, and the daylight stretches until 8:00 pm. I’ve always loved summer for the carefreeness spirit that the season carries and June feels like the passage to that freedom.
June in Kamikatsu is the sound of croaking frogs, little fireflies along the river, and wild grass and weeds everywhere. It’s the realization that the plants and bugs are very much alive. The first of June marks the start of the fishing season for ayu, a sweet river fish that’s very popular in Kamikatsu. Ayu only grows in very clean water and feeds on mossy patches in the streams.
This week I received a generous serving of ayu prepared in two ways: sashimi with a yuzu vinegar and a slice of pickled ginger and cooked ayu prepared over a charcoal fire with a light salt rub. I was also gifted a heaping box of corn a handful of onions and tiny bulbs of garlic.
Old Japanese-style home
A year ago, I moved into my (now) home—an old Japanese-style house known as kominka. I wrote a post about it last May 2021 and I thought it would be a lovely moment to pause, reflect, and share what I’ve learned this past year. I definitely moved into the kominka with rose-tinted glasses and I thought I would have an idyllic farm life in my old Japanese-style house with my new pets (2 dogs and 4 chickens) and all this space in the garden. Reality struck a chord quickly and I came to grips with the challenges of such a lifestyle. Despite the many surprises, I still enjoy and relish daily life here and I hope that this past year makes me better prepared for the year to come. Some of the things I learned include:
Fine lines between inside and outside
I can feel the seasons inside my home—no intended poetry or beautiful metaphor. When it’s cold outside, it’s cold inside. Cracks and crevices are found along walls and windows; cold air seeps in through the imperfectly sealed wooden frames. I have a friend who has a hole in her ceiling and she even feels snow blow inside her home in the winter (luckily mine isn’t as bad). Traditional Japanese homes were built for more comfortable summers with windows that let air through, but I have no idea how people made it through the colder months.
In the rainy season, which is about the start in a couple of days, there is also a problem of mould. During this period, wooden surfaces inside the house become a breeding ground for mold since the humidity dramatically rises and the continuous lack of sun (for about 2 weeks) keeps all things damp. I’m constantly adjusting my home to match the seasons. Furniture gets swapped out, like a kotatsu (heated table) in the winter, a dehumidifier in the rainy season, and a tatami (bamboo) mat in the living room, instead of carpet, for the summer. I adjust my home like I change my clothes for the weather.
The insects are inevitable
This might make people squirm, but I have learned to live with many bugs. The co-existence with bugs arrives in early spring and peaks in June with the onset of the rainy season. I don’t know if I would consider bugs my biggest “problem”. I, like most, don’t enjoy bugs but I’ve learned to cope with them (probably better than most). I try to avoid killing almost all bugs, except on the rare occasion I see centipedes. Instead, as best as I can, I’ve been looking for natural insect repellers and catching and releasing the ones I find.
Many insects don’t like the smell of mint and hinoki (Japanese cypress), both I’ve learned are good natural bug repellents. In the summer months, to prevent mosquitoes or other bugs, I also use a kaya or bed net. There are ways to cope with insects and accept their part in the greater picture of the natural ecosystem. I’ve come to the terms that living with (and in) nature means making peace with bugs.
DIY is useful, if not essential
I couldn’t have imagined I would take on DIY projects for the house. Living in the countryside has made me much more resourceful—I find myself asking myself (at least twice), ‘is this something I can do on my own’?
I’ve never considered myself a handy person but one of my most rewarding projects this year was building garden beds. My next biggest victory was filling those beds with soil and growing vegetables. My plants are thriving and flowering, soon-to-bloom tomatoes and other snackable produce.
Maintaining the inside of the house is one challenge, but I felt that taking care of the outdoor spaces is equally important. From a community level, neighbors care that visible outdoor spaces are well-kept. From an individual level, I think that nice landscaping and a garden have made coming home feel even more welcoming. I never thought I’d be the person who would plant flowers, simply for the reason they are beautiful, but I find myself being drawn to beauty as inherently valuable. Flowers are also great for pollinators!
A space for gathering
What I love most about having a home of my own is that I can create a space for gathering, cooking, raising animals, and eating with friends. This was my dream when I moved out of my host family’s abode and into my own house. Home in this one year constantly feels like a place of comfort, laughter, and play. Being able to gather is truly a gift. I love cooking food and serving my friends in mismatched cutlery and dishes, most of which were free from the community’s recycle shop. I love being able to extend generosity in a way that allows people to come to stay with me and enjoy Kamikatsu.
The thing I’ve come to realize most about living in a kominka is that a house is a living thing. I think that it’s easy to feel disconnected from the four walls that enclose us when we’re dwelling in an apartment. Houses can tell us stories of the past and how they were built to interact with their environment. Houses, like people, need regular care and maintenance to make sure that structures remain intact. Preventative care, like ensuring that drains are cleaned or dusting is done often, stretches the life of a place. I’m hoping that this year my muscle memory sets in and I’m better equipped to anticipate and adapt to any challenge. I think that being settled in one place this year has taught me that a home is something you create and nurture.
May June be kind to you. May calm wash over you like the slow, soft, and steady trickle of rain that I’m listening to from my window as I type this to you.
Have a wonderful week ahead.
Take care,
Kana
So many similarities between your home and mine despite the differences. (And to your friend's — it snows in here, too, ha!) Loved this.
As a fellow gardener, I enjoy your posts and share your appreciation for the food, beauty, wonder and peace to be found outside. Thank you from rainy Portland, Oregon USA, and bring on the sun - my tomatoes and cucumbers are anxious to grow.