Signs of Autumn

I don't know how many pieces of literature or literary criticism I had to read about the Japanese respect and reverence of nature. The connection between man and nature is certainly highlighted in Shinto, but in most portrayals of Japan the significance of nature goes further. It's part of every-day life; it's ingrained in every haiku. And the turning of the seasons, in particular, is deeply felt in the hearts and minds of the Japanese.

At least that's what all the literature would have me believe. And I have to admit that as I experience the coming of autumn, I do think there's some truth to it, at least for the Japanese stranded out in rural areas like mine, where the traffic lights are few and far between and the steep curves of the mountain roads limit a car's speed more than those suggestive signs. Autumn does not just come to the country; it invades. The forerunner sentries--found mostly in select season-specific supermarket produce and the vegetation along the side of the road-- have come and are fading. As the evenings start to cool with a chill that sets my neighbors running for their portable gas heaters and me rummaging around for sweatshirts, the tips of the mountains are beginning to succumb, touches of red and yellow sprinkled like a sickness among the lush green. What I think of full-blown autumn, all the maples showing their glory and the leaves starting to fall, will not reach Tsushima until November.

The first forerunner of autumn to make an appearance in Tsushima was the bitter cucumber. Famous in Okinawa, I was curious about its bumpy exterior and on the advice of a cafe owner tried to stir-fry some with pork and garlic. Here's how it turned out:



.... a nice meal with nashi, the Japanese pear freshest in summer and early autumn, for dessert. The 'bitter cucumber' is a bit of an aquired taste, though. Aside from its overall appearance, it doesn't really resemble a cucumber. The inside is inedible and must be scooped out; only the bumpy exterior is good for cooking. Even heavily seasoned with garlic and shoyu, it was really bitter.

The next two autumn forerunners were complete surprises; looking out my taxi window on the way to school, mysterious clumps of brilliantly red flowers had sprung up overnight. I learned they are called 'cluster amaryllis,' and they do look like amarylli up close:



A delicious supermarket surprise, the green mikan (kind of like a Japanese tangerine) is only available for a short time at the beginning of autumn. While prefectly edible, it has a more tart taste-- though by no means unpleasant-- than the fully-ripe orange winter mikan. I actually like the green ones better; they fill out their skins, unlike the shriveled winter mikan, and have a unique unfinished sweetness. I still love the orange mikan, but they can leave a somewhat overly-sweet aftertaste. The green ones seem more sassy, have a more complex flavor. They're mikan teenagers, difficult to understand and describe.... and even if such a thing were possible, they'd vehemently deny it and then hate you for your analytic attempt. So I'll just leave it at that and give a mug shot, should they ever find their moody way to you:



The next three sentries of autumn came nearly concurrently, springing up along the side of the road and being quite prevalent in my taxi rides to school. They are the flower called 'cosmos,' also known as the 'autumn cherry-blossom' for its resemblance of the spring cherry-blossoms; a hay-like weed associated with autumn and a frequent companion in wall-hangings with rabbits or the moon; and fields of white soba blossoms. After petal-fall, the soba will be harvested, ground into flour, and made into delicious soba noodles.





The lastest and unmistakably American sign of autumn is the prevalence of Halloween as a subject in school. I've been asked to give many talks and at Tobu, my favorite middle school, my JTE showed up with a cat-hat for me to wear and a witch-hat for herself. We wore them all day and I do believe we were adorable (I wore black on purpose to be a 'black cat'):


... although all of my school talks are just a warm-up for an all-day Halloween party coming up on the actual day, when I will be a pirate. I've paper-mached a hook and sword and am looking forward to the old-fashioned Halloween games.