A late-night encounter with O-Demari (大手毬) – Japanese Snowballs!
O-demari ( Japanese snowballs) in Tsukuba (May 2011)
By Avi Landau
They`ve changed the bus routes! As of April 1st 2011, the Tsuku Bus- the city`s subsidized transport service, no longer stops in front of my house- though it still does pass by as it follows its route ( as if to mock me)!
Now if I want to get around town by bus I have to walk over to the old Sakura City Office. The fastest way for me to get there is to take a short-cut through one of Tsukuba`s most beautiful undeveloped areas- the wilds between the Sakura Junior High School and the former city office, which is a rich ( though unmarked) archaeoligical site ( a government office stood there more than 1,000 years ago) that is now something of a small, very unofficial, nature preserve- replete with all sorts of small animals and birds, and of course plenty of interesting vegetation.
One night last week, I decided to take the bus back home, and I got out at the lonely Former City-Office stop at about 10 PM. It certainly IS a creepy place to get dropped off at that hour, but still, instead of walking around the LONG WAY, taking the street-lit and paved sidewalks, I headed on, without flashlight, into the wilds- with the crazed frog choruses from nearby rice fields as background music!
As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I realized that the moon, though not full, would provide adequate illumination for me to navigate the dirt paths.
Very soon along my way, I noticed the silhouettes of two large Ural Owls ( FUKURO) perched on a tree. They were unnerved by my presence, and silently took off into flight, displaying the outlines of their broad wingspans in the moonlit sky. MAGICAL!
Transfixed, I stopped in my tracks to admire them, though in less than an instant they had vanished from sight.
Straining my eyes in the dark to see the birds, I noticed something unusual up ahead- large and glowing ghostly white. A chill ran down my spine.
I approached slowly, and realized that it was no spectre I had come across, but a tree- more than two meters tall and fully bedecked with surprisingly large, round, white flowers. From the size and shape of the blossoms I realized it was an O-Demari tree (Viburnum plicatum var. plicatum f. plicatum), whose flowers in English have come to be called ( quite appropriately) JAPANESE SNOWBALLS!
I stood transfixed for a few moments beneath the tree which glowed in the weak moonlight and seemed to come to life with each breeze- before continuing on my way home.
A closer look
The next morning, I knew that I just HAD TO take the bus into town, so that on my way to the stop I could get a look at the tree in the daylight.
And it WAS as spectacular as it had been the previous night. And though not as mysterious as it had been in the moonlight, I still missed my bus.
The O- demari, also known as the TEMARI BANA（手鞠花 ) in Japanese, is a member of the Honeysuckle Family, and is in fact a cultivar developed over the centuries by Japanese horticulturalists, of a native species called the YABU DEMARI (ヤブデマリ,V. plicatum var.tomentosum).
The flowers of the O-demari bloom in May, giving us what look like snowballs just when the weather is finally warming up ( they look so tempting that you want to pull one off and throw it at someone!)
It is interesting that if I show a close-up photo of these flowers to botanically-savy Japanese they all immediately assume that what they are looking at is HYDRANGEA. In fact, the O-demari DO look uncannilly like those much more famous ( and commonly found) blossoms.
Another confusing point, is that there is another decorative plant in Japan called the KODEMARI, which is usually assumed to be a relative of the snowballs. There are two reasons for this. One is that they look quite similar, especially from afar. More importantly, however, are the names of these plants, which can be taken to mean LARGE DEMARI ( O-demari), and SMALL DEMARI ( kodemari).They are in fact, not even of the same family.
Snowball petals on the ground
Anyway, my mysterious encounter with the O-demari was so impressive, that I think I will have to try to get to a tree nursery and buy one for my garden. I hope to enjoy its SNOWBALLS in future Mays- especially on moonlit nights!
Check here for some pictures of KODEMARI ( more commonly seen than, and completely UNRELATED to O-DEMARI):
http://www.hana300.com/kodema1.html
Print This Post
A Gathering Of Blues
Japan's month long rainy season (tsuyu, 梅雨) usually ends in mid-July, and that means there are precious few days left to savor its SPECIAL BEAUTY. Many Japanese consider Ajisai (紫陽花, or hydrangea) to be the quintessential flower of this season, as they look just right when wet, and enshrouded in mist. And though these flowers can be found almost anywhere you turn your head in Tsukuba, thousands of Tsukubans make long trips (or should I say pilgrimages?) to famous ajisai temples, especially in Kamakura. Nearer to home there are 2 other nationally renowned hydrangea-viewing meccas, the Amabiki Kannon near Makabe, and the Taiho Hachiman Shrine in Shimotsuma. Both highly recommended at ANYTIME. All the more so in this season.
The flower has a long history in these islands and many scholars actually assert that it is indigenous to Japan and in fact introduced to China from here. After centuries of breeding, numerous varieties have been developed and new colors, pinks and whites, brought out. By taking a look at the etymology of the Japanese name AJISAI, we can see that in earlier times the flowers were mainly blue, as the sounds used to make up the name originally meant a GATHERING OF BLUES (aji-from atsu (集まる) or gather , and ai (藍), indigo blue.
Hydrangea have another Japanese name, however, nanahenge (七変化), or seven transformations, which derives from the flower's unique characteristic. The colors of the petals change according to the chemical make-up of the soil! This feature has given the flower rich symbolic meaning in Japanese art and poetry -- especially to represent a fickle and changing heart. It is because of this characteristic too, that hydrangea were shunned by the warrior class in the feudal period, because for them, changing colors, or by extension loyalties, was anathema .
For Westerners, however, hydrangea can be seen as a symbol of silent devotion, as its scientific name, otaksa, appears to refer to Otaki-San, a woman from Nagasaki's pleasure quarter, who was the mistress of the German naturalist P.F. von Siebold, who went on to introduce ajisai to Europe .
One more point. These flowers are to be looked at and NOT EATEN. Recently, there was a nationally reported case of food poisoning which occurred down the road from my house in Tsukuba at the curious and pricey Italian restaurant Toeimon Sakae. The chef, in keeping with the season-conscious aesthetics of Japanese cooking(despite this being an Italian eatery), garnished a dish with the very IN SEASON leaves of hydrangea. These were subsequently consumed by the unsuspecting diners.
This resulted in what must have been an unforgettable scene, right out of Monty Python. You see, the leaves of ajisai have always been used to induce vomiting, especially when poisons were consumed. Imagine then, the eight customers wretching uncontrollably, spewing out their expensive dinners onto the antique furniture and tatami mats (this restaurant is in a magnificent thatched roof farm house!).Surprisingly,the penalty for this chef`s oversight was a mere one-day suspension of business.
while you're out there enjoying the last few AJISAI DAYS remember: LOOK BUT DON'T TASTE.
Print This Post
A Glimpse (and Whiff) of Things to Come
Plum Blossoms In Tsukuba - Feb. 4, 2009
Even in Japan's mild-wintered Kanto region, in most years, on February 4th, radio and television weathercasters can do nothing but complain about the inappropriately cold weather. This year, however, on that day, afternoon temperatures actually reached a toasty 14 degrees centigrade, an unusual case of the weather properly befitting the occasion, Risshun (立春), the first day of spring. And, as an extra treat, many of Tsukuba's plum blossoms (ume no hana), Japan's symbolic harbingers of spring, burst into bloom (perfectly on cue) on the very same day! These earliest blooming of Japan's popular flowering trees are also its most fragrant, and yesterday's warm breezes might have carried their thick, sweet, syrupy smell to your nose.
The traditional Japanese calendar is divided into 24 equal sections called SEKKI (節気), which creates an idealized, perfectly balanced four-seasoned year. The first day of spring is determined as the exact middle point between the winter solstice (冬至, toji) and the vernal equinox (春分の日、shunbun no hi), which usually has RISSHUN fall on February 4th. Subsequently, we have the first day of summer (Rikka, 立夏) on May 5th this year, that being the day equidistant from the spring equinox and the summer solstice (geshi, 夏至）. The other two seasonal turning points, the first day of autumn (risshuu, 立秋) and the first day of winter (rittou, 立冬), are determined in the same manner, creating four seasons, each ninety days long.
Plum blossoms In Tsukuba's Botanical Garden - Feb. 4, 2009
When Japan still followed its old calendar, Risshun, the first day of spring, was also the first day of the new year, the day on which all Japanese would grow one year older together. That is why on the evening of the previous day (February 3rd, this year), it is the tradition to eat the same number of soy beans as your age (sometimes plus one!), in what is called the SETSUBUN festival. Another name for the evening before RISSHUN was TOSHI NO YORU (歳の夜), which could be translated as the BIRTHDAY EVENING.
Of course, the Japanese seasonal divisions are not usually in accordance with meteoroloigical realities, as the coldest days of the year usually hit during the weeks AFTER the first day of spring, and in many parts of Japan the snow remains deep. There is even a famous expression and lyric to a well-known song which goes "HARU WA NA NOMI" (春は名のみ), which means "spring in name only". Despite the cold of early spring, for the Japanese it was the OCCASIONAL warm breeze, the stirring of certain plants and animals and the blooming of the plum blossoms (especially on snow covered branches), that is to say the little CHANGES and HINTS which gave hope and expectation of things to come that were what early spring was recognized as and appreciated for.
The blossoms of the plum tree (ume no ki), which has been bred into such numerous varieties since being brought to Japan more than 1000 years ago by returnees of missions to various Chinese dynastic courts, rival those of Japan's national flower, the cherry blossoms (sakura no hana) in terms of endearment in the hearts of the Japanese people. In fact, in the early Showa Period, there was a heated debate over which of the two WOULD become the national flower. The plum's strong points were not only that it was beautiful and highly fragrant and the first major blossom of the new year and thus symbol of spring's coming, praised so often by Japan's greatest classical poets. It was also a unique feature of the DAILY JAPANESE DIET in the form of UME BOSHI, or salted plums, as well as a popular ingredient for liquor and juice. It was probably the fact that plum blossoms were already the national flower of China (which they still are in Taiwan), and had been introduced to Japan from there that the UME lost out. Of course, there is also the matter of the more delicate cherry blossoms being more representative of the quintessential Japanese notion, MUJO, the fleeting nature of all things.
Despite having been brought in from abroad, the first western scientists to encounter the plum trees, including Philip Von Sebold, mistook them as being native to Japan. This could also be because, though a popular motive of Chinese art, there is no special tradition of viewing their flowers nor is there the custom of regularly eating their fruit.
For the Japanese, there is another interesting significance to the plum blossom: its connection to the passing of entrance examinations! The other day, just as I was mentioning plum blossoms to a friend of mine who has been driven to distraction by her son's upcoming exams, someone's cellphone rang. It was hers. A considerate friend had sent her a photo of a plum tree in bloom as a way of saying, "I hope your son is gonna pass!"
How did the ume no hana come to have such a connection to studies and the passing of tests? Well, the answer is simple: the plum tree was a favorite of SUGAWARA NO MICHIZANE, the great Heian Period poet, scholar and calligrapher who was unjustly expelled from the capital, died in exile, and was later enshrined as the GOD TENJIN, the patron god of scholars, poets, calligraphers and students. According to legend, when Michizane was leaving the capital on the road to exile in distant Dazaifu, Kyushu, it was only his plum tree that Michizane bade farewell with this, the most famous of all his poems.
KOCHI FUKABA NIOI OKOSE YO UME NO HANA
ARUJI NASHI TOTE HARU NA WASURESO
(If the East wind blows this way, send your fragrance to me, o plum blossoms,
even though I am no longer there).
Legend then says that the tree came flying all the way to Kyushu to give the forlorn aristocrat solace to the end of his days (which was not very far off).
Plum Blossoms In Tsukuba's Woods
There are almost always plum trees, sometimes hundreds, at shrines dedicated to Michizane, or TENJIN, as he is called in deified form. In this season, millions of supplicants visit these shrines to pray for exam success, and appropriately the plum blossoms are opening, filling the sacred precincts with the fragrance of HOPE.
Luckily for those of us who live in Ibaraki, Mito, our prefectural capital is the home to one of the most famous places for enjoying plum blossoms, KAIRAKUEN. The ume festival there will begin toward the end of this month.
Print This Post
Among the Brocade Of Spring Flowers Dont Overlook the Daikon Radish Blossoms (daikon no hanan 大根の花)
Despite the prolonged winter-like weather, or rather because of it, the spring flowers have been spectacular in Japan, with rarely seen combinations of blossoms which do not normally bloom at the same time - peach, cherry and azalea, for example- arousing excitement at parks, gardens and even in front and back yards.
With the explosion of color and fresh greenery it is easy to overlook another April blossom, which though humble and quite rustic belongs to one of Japan`s (and Tsukuba`s) most common and important crops- the DAIKON RADISH!
The daikon ( 大根) is an essential part of the Japanese diet YEAR-ROUND in the form of pickles and in soups and stews. Grated,it is also used as a condiment for a variety of dishes such as grilled fish or noodles.
Daikon no Hana ( flowers of the daikon radish) Tsukuba 2010
Despite being eaten throughout the year, the daikon is considered to be a vegetable representative of winter, the season in which it has been traditionally harvested.
Many farmers, however, leave some daikon in the fields over the winter, as they keep very fresh in the cold soil.
Once they start to flower, either in white or purple cross shaped blossoms, the daikon can no longer be eaten. It will be possible to obtain seeds from them, however,and many farmers also leave them in the fields just to let them bloom.
Flowering daikon- Konda, Tsukuba 2010
With the important role the daikon has played in the diet and folk customs of the people of Ibaraki, as well as its dominance of the Ibaraki`s AGRISCAPES, I sometimes wonder whether this rustic, yet charming flower should not be the PREFECTURAL FLOWER, instead of the high brow rose.
A row of flowering daikon radish in Tsukuba 2010
For more on the Daikon in Japanese culture and history and its special role in Ibaraki Prefecture I have written:
and
http://tengooz.blogspot.com/2008/01/two-legged-daikon-radish-and-dosojin.html
Print This Post
An Icon of Autumn- Hagi (萩, bush clover) Often Goes Unnoticed- look for it !
By Avi Landau
Hagi (bush clover) swaying in the breeze by the side of the road in Tsukuba (2011)
A fundamental element of traditional Japanese culture is seasonality. By this I mean having an awareness of and CELEBRATING each particular time of year. This is practiced by eating IN SEASON foods, taking notice of and appreciating various natural phenomena ( blossoming flowers, the activities of animals, particular types of clouds or rain, etc.), and by including or displaying standardized seasonal motifs, appropriate to the season, on ones clothing, in hanging scrolls (which are changed accordingly throughout the year) and other decorative objects. Seasonal key-words ( KIGO) are also used in poems ( and letters).
Over the centuries there have accumulated hundreds of such representive symbols of the season, many of them instantly understood by the average Japanese person.
For example, the chirping of cicadas (in poems, movies, etc.) tells you that the season being evoked is summer. And naturally, when it IS summer, many Japanese consciously take notice of this moving chorus ( while for many foreigners new to Japan, it is merely a disturbing or annoying cacophany!).
For spring there is of course the cherry blossoms, or the call of the bush warbler ( uguisu).
In winter, there are fugu ( pufferfish) and anko ( monkfish), which many Japanese make sure to enjoy ( in hot savory stews) at least once a year in that season.
A closer look a the bush clover`s little flowers ( along route 408 in Tsukuba)
For autumn, there is the moon, which seems so large and near to us in that season. When the moon is full in September, many Japanese make offerings to the moon ( or I guess we could just call them decorations), which include small moon cakes, and two of Japans iconic plants of fall: SUSUKI ( pampas grass) and HAGI ( bush clover).
HAGI, whose Kanji character - 萩, when broken down to its elements actually means AUTUMN GRASS, has long been a beloved plant in Japan, deeply connected with autumn. ( Interestingly, in China the same character refers to a DIFFERENT plant! A type of mugwort. This means that in the Heian Period, the Japanese took that character ( autumn grass), and adopted it for HAGI, which for them symbolized autumn).
The blooming of Hagi, a shrub whose small, purple or white flowers start appearing in late August, was indeed an important symbol of autumn for the ancient Japanese . In fact, of all the many plants ( about 150) mentioned in the first great collection of Japanese poetry, the Manyoshu ( compiled in the late 8th century, and containing poems written between the years 347 and 759 AD), hagi appears more than any othr (in 140 different poems, in fact)!
Bush clover (hagi) in Tsukuba
I have always found this fact astounding. That of all the plants and flowers in Japan, bush clover is mentioned most often by the ancient poets. I guess the reason for the fact that I find this so surprising is that while the other outstanding flowers of Japanese culture- the plum blossoms, the cherry blossoms, the irises, the maples trees, the violets, etc., are just that- OUTSTANDING, catching the eye of even those who dont know their names, bush clover is much more difficult to spot and often goes unnoticed in todays Japan ( I didnt realize until LAST YEAR that HAGI grew along many of Tsukuba`s main roads!).
So what was it that so endeared this shrub to the Japanese people of yore.
Well first, hagi bloomed with the first cool breezes of late August signifying the end of Japan`s intolerable ( and unhealthy) summer heat and humidity. The upper classes of the old capitals would go out for hagi-viewing excursions and would bring back some to plant in their own gardens , or as gifts for friends. Women would also decorate their hair with its sprigs ( this is evident from several extant poems).
Just as importantly ( or even more so), this plant ( a member of the pea family), seemed to possess very powerful life-energies. Cut down to a stub, it can grow back out very quickly.( There is a story in the Ancient Chronicles of Harima of how the Empress Jingo, after having just arrived back in Japan from her military adventures in Korea, was astounded at how long a Hagi bush grew overnight).
Also, with its long slender branches that sway continuously even in the slightest breeze ( that is why it is so difficult to photograph well with a cell-phone!), the ancients considered this plant to be representative of the ACTIVE or MALE FORCE ( the YANG), in the same way that the willow was.
In fact in the Manyoshu, the Kanji character used to write HAGI was not today`s 萩. There were a few other ways of writing the name of this plant (pronounced in the same way): 生え木, and 芽木, 芽子、or just 芽、 which literally mean growing tree (or life tree) , sprout tree, sprout child and just plain- sprout, respectively, indicating how this plant represented GROWTH and LIFE to the ancients.
It was often used in former ages as fodder for horses and oxen and was also an important fertilizer, making it an important practical part of people`s lives well.
And besides being planted in private gardens and temple grounds ( and in the present age in parks and along roads), hagi was also planted in certain areas to prevent soil erosion.
(Checking a book on traditional remedies I have found that the dried roots of hagi were used to treat dizziness and overheating.)
Hagi by the side of the road in Tsukuba
Over the centuries, with the influence of the ancient poets bearing strong, hagi has remained an important symbol of autumn, featured as a motif on painted scrolls, painted screens, kimonos, etc.
There are also records of several major HAGI-VIEWING receptions which have been hosted by the Imperial Family or wealthy aristocrats. These events usually not only involved enjoying the bush clover, but also appreciating the melancholy chirping of various autumn insects which were purposely released onto the grounds for the occassion.
As I have mentioned in my previous post, the special sweet eaten around the time of the autumnal equinox ( today!), is called O-Hagi, giving it a distinctive autumn flavor ( as oppossed to the same sweet eaten around the spring equinox called Botamochi, named after the famed flower of spring, the botan- peony).
So why not celebrate the season! After youve had some chestnut rice ( kuri-gohan), tea and O-Hagi, why dont you get out and take a little walk on this cool ( post typhoon) autumn day . You will surely have plenty of insect music to accompany your wanderings. And keep an eye out for hagi- Im sure you will find some.
And if you would like a more intense bush clover experience, why not head up to Mito, our prefectural capital? There, at the Kairakuen Garden ( so famous for plum blossoms in March) you can find plenty of amzing hagi growing. In fact, I think that in fall, its better than it is in spring ( when it is so incredibly crowded!).
The hagi grows grand at Mito`s Kairakuen Garden
Hagi at the Kairakuen Garden in Mito
Anyway, no matter what you do, enjoy your holiday!
Another one of the great symbols of autumn, often paired with hagi- SUSUKI ( pampas grass), set up as a decoration in front of the cafe Posten, in Hojo
Print This Post