Sunflower fields

Rural Japan is always looking for ways to survive. The young are flocking to cities, leaving people in their 70’s or older to manage the fields. Plus government subsidies are down and prices are going up, so making ends meet is tough. Many areas, though, are coming up with some ingenious ways to keep afloat. In one place near where I live, for example, the farmers have given themselves an economic injection via mild tourism. They have opened their fields of sunflowers for city-ites to enjoy.

Since I had never seen these golden fields, two friends and I set out the other day to explore. One friend drove in her spanking new car with a fluffy floor carpet and special boxes for us to put our shoes in. Just like in the homes here, we had to remover our footwear before entering her pristine vehicle.

We made several stops en route. Our first was at a very local grocery store. The shelves were lined with such delights as soy powder for sweets, plum vinegar for summer exhaustion, salt-pickled eggplant, daikon and carrots, grasshoppers for snacks, entire snakes coiled in sake bottles for immediate rejuvenation, and gummy rice cakes with sweet bean paste. We “oohed” and “aahed” as the owner gave us teeny samples of each. Soon our baskets were filled with savory goodies to take home.

The entire area consisted of paddies and vegetable patches surrounding large, well-settled houses that looked much like mother hens fluffed out and clucking on their well-loved nests. And many of those tile-roofed “palaces” were chock full of heirlooms. One shopkeeper had managed to persuade the old timers to sell some of their “old useless things”. And as a consequence, his shop held the history of many families in the area. There were exquisite old kimonos, dolls with china heads, smooth wooden boxes with drawers for tobacco, a small kettle for tea, and a scooped out bowl for a long stemmed pipe, at one time used by ladies. My friend reminisced that her great-aunt had used such a pipe, and she remembered hearing the tap-tap-tap as her aunt changed the tobacco in the teeny bowl perched at the end of the very long stem.

We popped into a very small restaurant for lunch, where we had a nice chat with the waitress. In Japan making smooth relations is very important, and so is making connections. In fact, human connections are vital here and have, therefore, developed into a fine ritualistic art. So, people make polite chitchat often. And as we talked to the waitress, we discovered that we had a mutual acquaintance. That made our connection stronger, albeit briefly and superficially. But that in itself was be enough. And sure enough, as is the custom here when someone becomes part of the “inner circle”, the chef himself came to our table to serve us our meal. Later as we were leaving, the entire staff of that small, warm establishment went to the door, thanked us, and bowed deeply until we were out of sight. Japan at her most polite.

After wandering in town a bit more, we headed for the sunflower fields, which were spread out over the hills like festively decorated blankets. There were rows and rows of bowing yellow heads, all facing obediently in one direction. They were quite small and seemed like miniature dolls, delicately and politely following the sun. The fields were peppered with people, much like grasshoppers, bobbing up and down taking photos and admiring the beautiful golden abundance of nature.

My friends and I strolled and looked, took photos like everyone else, ate creamy sunflower ice cream, and poured cold water on our heads to cool down. When it was time to go, we headed for the car. It was a perfect time, as four huge buses of seniors arrived to wander the paths that we had and to get in touch with the loveliness that kind Japanese farmers had opened their hearts to share.