Shizen and Sniffles

Punxsutawney Phil said we would have an early spring, and I am going to hold him to it.

The season is finally changing, according to the rain and my sore throat. Despite wearing my mask, sleeping well, and eating an orange every day, my body loves to catch a cold!

I shouldn't be complaining. When I was living in Texas, I longed for seasonal changes. Month after month of sunshine really wears you down, as backward as that sounds. I wanted rain and chill and early green and that annoying wintery mix of sleet and snow and rain that chills your bones but saturates the ground for flowers to come. Well, now I have them all along with the sniffles. 

I know I mentioned in an earlier newsletter that I came to Japan wanting seasons, but I didn't know at the time what those seasons would look like. I expected some snow in the winter and tropical summers. I didn't expect the chill and dampness to seep through the windows and doors of my apartment. I didn’t expect the intensity of that August sun as it beats down, relentlessly burning the umbrella I have to carry as a shield when I go outside. Back in America, we protect ourselves from the weather. Our windows are sealed and our walls are insulated. So, on a summer day, you might never know if the temperature reaches 100 unless you walk outside

Japan has AC, heaters, stoves, and fans, but I feel the seasons more here than ever before. There are mornings when I open my fridge to get milk for coffee and find the air inside it is warmer than the air in my kitchen. My little heaters would have to work triple time to warm even one room, so I just bundle up and deal with it. I have even heard stories of friends waking up to find ice on the inside of their windows. I feel like Peter Mayle in his book, A Year in Provence, when the French mistral winds howl through the Rhone valley, freezing the pipes of his old provincial farmhouse. His memoir details the misery of it all (thankfully with a tone of humor). I understand a little of his frustration when the wind whistles through cracks in my windows all night long.

Winter in Japan (even in the south it seems), is not for the faint of heart, so you can imagine my joy when I woke up last week to the smell of earthworms and spring. For about five glorious days, the sun shone. I gratefully retired my puffer jacket, swapping it for denim. My heater stayed off with temperatures reaching 60. The snow melted from the top of Mt. Ibuki, leaving cold gray rock in its place. At home, I flung open the windows to let my apartment breathe a little. Even now, the rice fields are showing signs of life, my neighbors are putting out flower pots in preparation for gardening to come, and there is one cherry tree blooming in Samegai on the road I walk to school. How could I not feel revived?

I keep my eye on the blooms of this single early sakura in the hope that the petals do not freeze off. A cheery sight.

Warm days in February are, as the Japanese say, utakata - beautiful but fragile. My early spring ended last Friday with rain and wind that continued for three days straight. Somehow, I got out of the house on Sunday for the farmer’s market, but it wasn’t easy. My layers of clothes, hats, and gloves kept me warm on the train, but I was glacial after about thirty minutes in town. The market was nearly deserted, so I had first pick of the veggies and bread, but everything was a little bit wet in my bag on the way home. Once back in the relative dryness of my apartment, I spent the rest of the day curled up like a cat under my kotatsu next to my space heater. My body was tired in a way I only feel after an extremely hard workout, so I went to bed early with my electric blanket turned on high. I guess this morning`s sore throat and stuffy nose aren’t really that surprising.

Despite my seasonal cold and the return of winter, I am curious about what will come next. Will the clairvoyant Pennsylvania groundhog, Punxsutawney Phil, be correct this year? Will we finally have an early spring? All I can do is pay attention to any small signs of life and wait.

Through the rain and fog. An end to mini-spring.

In Japanese, the word shizen (自然\) can be generally translated to mean nature. However, like many Japanese words, the translation isn't direct. When Westerners think about nature, we think of mountains and forests and rivers and animals. Nature is something for us to see and to visit. It is something to appreciate but also control in efforts to make our lives more comfortable. That is not the case in Japan. Shizen doesn't just refer to parts of nature, like mountains and forests, it also refers to us and our relationship with the world around us. Shizen means nature, but it also means to understand it and build a better future with it. To the Japanese, nature is something we live in and with. It is not to be controlled but respected. I think that is pretty nice.

Current head-cold aside, I have plenty to enjoy while I wait for spring to stick. For me, early spring means listening to The Cranberries and Chopin. More salad, less soup. I can put aside my moodier books (currently reading and crying over A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara) in favor of Jane Austen. I always keep an eye on the oak leaves too. My mother taught me that when they are the size of squirrel ears, the morel mushrooms are ready to be hunted. I am both disappointed and hopeful when I wake up with a sore throat and a stuffy nose because I know it means spring is coming. And when I need to curl up on the floor by the heater with a good movie or book for an afternoon, I do it knowing that maybe my body needs to enjoy the last of my winter hibernation before the go-go-go go of summer begins. For now, I can try to learn something from shizen. I can attempt a moment or two of mindfulness each day when I look for buds on trees and green in the fields. In other news, my puffer jacket is back in the rotation (for now).

What about you? Are buds swelling on the trees yet where you are? What are your spring rituals? How close do you feel to nature these days? As always, I invite you to think about it and reach out with any thoughts you feel like sharing. Thanks, always, for your comments, emails, and messages! If spring isn't quite springing where you live, be patient. I am a moderate believer in our prophetic groundhog, and he says warmth is on the way! Until next time, cheers!

Pallets of pansies ready to be planted at school, flower pots set out for early planting, tanuki guarding his flowers, and my morning ogura toast.

Ending Notes

Listening to: I have two albums to recommend this week! The first is my ultimate springtime album: Bury the Hatchet by The Cranberries (released April 1999). Whenever I hear it, I am transported to the back of my dad`s old Ford pickup truck as we drove around Bowling Green, Ohio, with the windows down and new leaves on the trees. I honestly can't put my finger on why this album reminds me of spring, but it just does. If this is the vibe you need, you can check it out here. The second album is a new one I only heard this week. Spotify thankfully alerted me that my old indie-kid favorite, MGMT, released their new album, Loss of Life. As you can probably tell from the title, it’s not the most cheerful album. The mix of peppy synth and garage-band indie sounds creates a satisfying balance. After finishing the album, I had to sit on my floor for a bit and think about it. I felt tired and wired at the same time — I loved it. This album tells a story and deserves to be heard from beginning to end, but each song is individually great as well. I’ll put a YouTube taster of both albums below in case you don’t have the time to fully immerse. Enjoy!

Recent Eats: Not just recently, but every day…I have to turn you on to red beans on toast. As an American, I love to judge the British for eating baked beans with breakfast, so I was shocked to discover that beans do in fact have a place in the morning meal. Red Beans, sweet and pasty and, well,  beany, are a common ingredient in Japan. My favorite way to eat them is on toast. Ogura as it is called here. There is something so satisfying about the crispy hot bread and the warm sweet beans with a pad of soft salted butter…I am obsessed. Red beans can probably be found in the international aisle at your local grocery store. If there is a Japanese or Asian market in your area, you can likely find cans of them there as well. White bread is best for the base — the thicker and fluffier the better. Fellow Americans, I challenge you to put your pride aside. If you can get over the idea of eating beans in the morning, then you are in for a treat!