A Walk in the Rice

Ena's emerald waves of grain cover the foot of the mountains like an old, patchwork quilt from Gee’s bend.

A friend, who shall remain nameless, requested that I take a few pictures of my surroundings (obviously he does not appreciate my obsession with Geisha). Since I've had Kuruma-chan (my beloved car), my rice feild wanderings have significantly decreased, which is an absolute travesty! I decided to rectify the situation by reaquainting myself with the country side through which I so often meandered when I first arrived in Ena.

Ena's countryside is dotted with Edo period store houses, built separate from the main house to protect family heirlooms and valuables from fire.

Back at home in the states, I remember smelling winter on the autumn winds, shuddering with the brightly colored leaves. In Japan, it is the mouth-watering aroma of autumn, wafting from rice field to rice field that I look forward to during the long summer months. Imagine the sweet smell of popcorn mingled with the fresh scent of summer rain and the smoke of a campfire; the sound of water flowing down from the mountains into moats encircling each emerald patch; pine covered mountains, rising like islands from the steady waves of wind-blown rice; dragonflies hovering over swaying stalks, heavy with the year's harvest, as butterflies dance to the chorus of chirping insects and burping frogs. As autumn draws near, the smell of the rice begins to hang so thick in the air you can almost taste it. 美味しそう!