Microseason: Dewy Flora
AUTUMN
WHITE DEW
DEWY FLORA
7 - 11 September
During this subseason called White Dew, we experience a moistness that is clearly different from Summer. It’s not the heavy weight of balmy humidity, but rather a hint of coolness in the breeze that is a marker of typhoon season. While in the city it still feels quite Summer, Dewy Flora seen in the early mornings in the mountains let us know that we are certainly in Autumn.
As we enter Autumn, seawaters that have fully warmed through Summer evaporate and feed low-pressure systems along the surface of the ocean, causing hard rains, vibrant lightening, and at times strong winds across the islands. Right after typhoon season, we drain the rice paddies and harvest a year’s worth of our most essential staple. This last bit of mineral content from the seawater is both nutritious, as well as challenging to the now tall and heavy rice stalks.
Typhoons, earthquakes, and volcanic eruptions are amongst the natural disasters of Japan, and the side effects of these natural disasters are also called natural disasters. But upon close assessment, it’s clear that many of theses side effects are natural disasters with the assumption that humans are part of nature.
Landslides and wild animals wreaking havoc in farmlands in and around the mountains this time of year have become an increasingly more common phenomenon over the past decade or two. Landslides so powerful that they take down entire homes and roads, and have proven deadly. And wild animals uprooting and eating our agricultural products can be financially devastating for farmers. Unfortunately, it shouldn’t come as too much of a surprise that these natural disasters have become commonplace in recent years. As it is in fact “just on time”, so to speak.
For a few decades before and after WWII, Japan saw an exponential demand for lumber as both population and industry grew rapidly. The timber industry was booming. Sugi (Japanese cedar) and hinoki (Japanese cypress) were mono-cropped all across Japan. Quick to grow, quick to harvest. This cycle worked, for awhile. But as soon as importing foreign wood proved cheaper, the entire timber industry swiftly fell to dust like a ghost town. Not only did we stop harvesting what was planted, but around that time we stopped living from the mountains at all.
Japan is said to be made of two parts: one part mountain and one part sea. And somehow we began to live, while ignoring both. Walking in the mountains, foraging in the mountains, cutting down wood for our homes, grass for our clothes, and fruits and seeds for our food, are part of our destiny as being human. As being one part of the natural world. Somewhere along the way, very recently in fact, we suddenly stopped doing any of it.
Sugi and hinoki trees grow tall and thick very quickly, making for brilliant varietals for the timber industry. However, their root systems do not fasten deep into the earth nor do they not retain water well. When we leave mono-cropped sugi and hinoki, their branches and leaves create an umbrella which keeps out sun rays. So that, with the dry earth floor, make for an ecosystem that is devoid of sun and water to nurture young flora or fungi. Not only do sudden downpours cause massive landslides because of the shallow roots of these large trees, wild animals go hungry, causing them to come down into nearby farmland.
This season tests us all. How can we be more agile to the unpredictable? What preventative measures can we take? How can we be ok when our preventative measures do not align with the unpredictable reality? As a part of the natural world, how are we being positive players in our ecosystem?
Photo credit: Waki Hamatsu