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Excerpts
from A Winter Retreat
WINDS, February 1998
Photos by Tom Wagner
When
December comes to Miyamacho, its proximity
to the outside world starts to fade with
the first flurry of snow. And with each
successive snowfall, Miyamacho seems to
retreat further into the mountains that
divide this small town at the northern edge
of Kyoto Prefecture from the Sea of Japan.
During
the three temperate seasons, Miyamacho attracts
a steady flow of visitors. Then, the town
is easily accessible, just an hour and a
half by car from the city of Kyoto. The
visitors to Miyamacho are drawn to the town's
impressive thatched roof farmhouses. They
come to fish and swim in the clear Yura
River, hike in the virgin beech forest at
the head of the river, feast on edible wild
plants, and stay at traditional inns.
Among
the locals, preparations begin early for
the great seasonal shift. Only the more
recently transplanted are fooled by the
cloudless skies of October. In the narrow
valleys between the ranges and the Yura,
wheat, rice and Chinese cabbages are harvested
from the fields of the agricultural cooperative
and family gardens. After this harvest of
the cultivated land comes a harvest of a
more solitary and secretive kinds as the
locals comb the steep slopes of the nearby
mountains for the rare, expensive 'matsutake'
mushrooms. Many of the mountains are leased
just for the matsutake season. Though leasing
a mountain can cost up to a million yen,
fortunes can be made from the fungus; or
they can be lost, if, as happens some years,
the mushrooms simply fail to show.
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Obi |
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 Miyama
has long supplied the kimono industry with beautifully
woven obi. One of my friends did this as take-home
work--for much lower wages than anyone in the city
would. |
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TV |
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 the
ubiquitous television entrances four generations
living together under a thatched roof in the hamlet
of Ashu,, the very last settlement before the mountains
really begin. In all but this national habit, the
people of Ashu are stubbornly independent. |
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Father
Son |
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 I
first went to meet this cattle farming family because
their timber frame barn was sheathed entirely in
corrugated plastic, an ingenious way of keeping
the hay and grain dry. In deference to the old caste
system, this family only raised cattle into calves,
leaving the butchering to others. |
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Karaoke |
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 THE
big event of the winter: a star visits the village. |
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Farmer
and Baby |
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 Only
85 years apart, my friend (seated, background) and
my youngest child (in sling, foreground), share
the warmth of a barn in February. |
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Butcher |
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 Winter's
a slower season for this friend of mine, who made
a brilliant business out of selling homemade poultry
sausage (a completely Western concept!) to tourists
visiting our thatched village from the cities. |
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Hearth |
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 Another
couple of friends: a philosopher-turned-shiitake
farmer and his clever wife, who run a thatched inn
with the best soba (buckwheat noodles) for 100 miles
around. The sunken hearth and the warm sake attract
nostalgic visitors from the cities, who soon recall
the stinging eyes (from the smoke) and the eternally
cold extremities of the old way of life. |
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Walker |
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 In
the solitary winter, the silence of snow falling
on thatch is glorious. |
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A
general and increasing busyness can be detected
as the days grow shorter. The power of the
sun, even as it dims, is practically worshipped.
From late morning through early afternoon,
everything from red 'azuki' beans to the
rice straw used for New ear's decorations
is brought outside to dry. Chinese cabbages
and daikon radishes are dried slightly before
pickling. persimmons are peeled and strung
up under the rafters. And chestnuts, a favorite
winter treat for the children, are gathered,
boiled and hung to dry.
Some
of the daikon harvested in late November
are buried again in mounds of loose earth.
Long stakes are planted firmly in these
mounds so that this staple may be found
in the deep snow and dug out as necessary
throughout the winter and early spring.
Raw Chinese cabbage is wrapped in newspaper
and stored in cool sheds. Locals chop firewood
and split it by the ton. They reinforce
eaves with uprights that will not be removed
until April. Throughout the town, earth
is shifted and obstacles are cleared to
create space where the prodigious amounts
of snow that will later fall can be stowed.
Before
the bad weather begins, every home has to
be surrounded by corrugated steel or plastic,
which will protect windows from the pressure
of accumulating snow. Generations living
comfortably apart in the warmer months grow
closer with the necessity of winter labor.
Young, city-dwelling relatives return the
favors of the previous months--packages
of vegetables and rice delivered from the
country by overnight express--by appearing
on weekends in November to help build the
2 meter-high snow barriers.
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