7 posts tagged “rainy season”
I did enjoy Julian's thing on jazz taxis. Only in Japan. Isn't Hibari Misora the famous enka singer? . . . That reminded me of the first verse of a poem I wrote, when I did that quite a lot, while M was pregnant and on for a while after.
Because the decided-upon day is here
the rainy season can now begin
to rain seasonally
all over the area it's supposed to,
making green greener and concrete grey.
—NC Tate
After overcast weeks with rain both heavy and fine, the rainy season was officially declared for the region ten days
On Saturday, a strong sun shone in a blue sky with white clouds piled from the horizon. By noon it was a glorious early summer's day. A generous breeze eased the heat.
Between the rice shoots, the water in the paddies still mirrors the sky.
The clouds closed in during the afternoon. Rain began falling in the middle of the night and on into a warm, dim, dripping Sunday.
--Julian
azaleas bloom
under a cloudy sky
Before the rainy season,
sun, wind, rain and
the first blue hydrangeas
Cycling home last night, I saw a brown cat walking down a row of onions in a farmer's field. When it heard me, it stopped and looked my way... and I saw it was a wild tanuki (raccoon dog). It turned and ran--fast--into the nearby woods.
--Julian
At twilight the sky was thrillingly dark, promising thunder. Walking home I passed hydrangeas in all their varieties: white cones, blue and purple orbs, clusters of buds fringed with flowers. The rice paddies were mirrors studded with green tufts, long enough now to blow in the breeze.
It's the middle of the rainy season. If I forget to open the windows, mold covers the edges of the tatami mats, encroaching further each day. Mold that rises in a blue puff of smoke when wiped. Mold on shoes in the hall and belts in the bedroom. The humidity sometimes brings sweat to the backs of your hands. It feels as if we exist in suspended animation, floating in a flower-decorated bubble of moisture. When it bursts, we'll find ourselves in the roaring, buzzing heat of midsummer.
That night the storm broke, and the sound of rain stole into my dreams.
--Julian
We complain about rain. It's miserable getting wet and it's also a lot of trouble avoiding it. But if you have the right equipment and spend five minutes suiting up in it, rain can be as pleasurable as sunshine.
You need a rain suit, and a waterproof hat with a rim that keeps the face and neck dry. Thanks to Goretex, these don't have to be plastic. Put on a pair of calf-length waterproof boots and slip the pants legs over them. Leave the umbrella at home and step out.
The rain comes down in a vertical or diagonal curtain. Gray clouds scud overhead. The raindrops splash off the road, or make kaleidoscopic patterns of circular ripples in the puddles and the paddy fields. Larger ripples radiate when water drips off overhead wires. The air is fresh. Forging ahead down the road, puddles are as much fun to splash through as when we were children. Small green frogs hop across your path. Even without wind, the tall bamboos sway extravagantly as they collect and release water.
The rainy season was declared in the Kanto area of Japan this week, six days earlier than usual and a staggering 20 days earlier than last year. We are in for a month of beautiful weather.
--Julian
After a month of cloud, for the second evening in a row the half moon hung in a clear sky after sunset. To look up at it was to see the wheeling bats high above the green paddy fields, feasting in the insect-rich air. Late last night cycling home, I was--surely there's no other explanation--hit with a light, glancing blow in the shoulder by a bat not paying attention.
On the way to work, I pass a farmer's rows of melons shielded by nets. The young helmet beetles fly out of the woods in search of food, are caught in the netting and hang, slowly pawing the air. City kids go to the store to buy their beetles. Country kids ask the farmer. The kids, now on holiday, keep these pets in plastic cages where they gorge on watermelon rind all summer and are fodder for entries in summer homework diaries.
After weeks of resenting the humidity, rain and mold, people have begun complaining about the heat. The past month takes on a cool delight in retrospect. Ever conservative, the weather bureau finally announced this week that the rainy season is over in Southern Japan. Can Kanto in Central Japan be far behind?
--Julian
In the Kanto area of Japan, summer begins in early June with a rainy season that can last for six weeks. There are showers or downpours most but not every day. The sky is gray, but not lowering. Pink, cream, purple, and pale blue hydrangeas bloom, and after dark the small green frogs in the paddy fields break out in vocal ecstasy. The flooded paddies also bring brown ducks to the valley to feast on weed and bugs. Sated, they preen or rest on the low banks. Swallows wheel over the young rice, catching insects on the wing. The mosquito population temporarily decreases.
Now the mosquitoes are returning and the frogs are still vocal but more subdued. The last full moon passed unnoticed, veiled by clouds. Last Friday, cycling late at night, we met a father and his two young sons coming out of the woods, towels tied around their heads, on their way back from an expedition to find large shiny black newly-hatched kabuto mushi helmet beetles that they will keep as pets all summer. Yesterday the tomatoes hanging unripe on the vine in front of the house showed the first signs of yellow.
The heat of summer is coming.
--Julian
