Spring

Twilight is quite possibly the best time of day. The way the light pushes through the trees on the western mountain slopes moves my heart. Watching cranes soar over the rice paddies looking for a place to shelter for the night forces me to take a slow breath in, and back out again, a small smile curving up my face. The simple chirping and twittering of the songbirds fills my ears. The clouds move from a bright white to a gorgeous grey, to a pink orange as the sun sinks further. This valley I live in is peace.

As the road through Ju Guni (10 countries) tunnel descends into Kitsuka (our part of Yasaka village), you enter a long valley. The floor of the valley is solely rice fields, vegetable gardens and a meandering river canal. The houses skirt up along the pine, cedar, cherry and bamboo filled hills on either side.
The wide blue sky resides above. The canal that leads through the valley is conveniently lined with a small agricultural road (think half the width of a US size car) that the farmers use for their plows and small white hauling trucks. But it also serves as the perfect silent place for my evening walks. Clumps of thick green grass grow in the canal and the water rushes around the rocks and weeds creating little white cascades.
Recently, I have been delighted to see daffodils pushing up along virtually every road in the valley.The limbs of the cherry trees hanging over the canals and roads are heavy with buds.
Last week, it was snowing and each morning we awoke to frost. Today, I have all the doors of the house thrown open, the laundry dried on the line in a few short hours this morning, and I am only wearing one pair of socks. Spring has arrived.

There is a saying in Japanese about how January goes away, February runs away and March leaves, basically a way to express how rapidly the opening of the calendar year disappears into the end of the school year (and fiscal year). This time of year always reminds me to remember how important the rhythms of life are. Everyone rousts themselves from their winter hibernation, the air warms, entrance exams are worried over and taken, students graduate, teachers and office workers give their farewells, everyone cries, packs up their stuff and prepares to start anew in April. At the same time, the sun comes out, blue sky appears for the first time in months, and flowers burst from every tree, bush and bare patch of earth.

Everything is renewed and though we mourn the passing of the season (the students who taught us more than we taught them, the staff who welcomed us, the heavy blankets on the bed that make you feel so safe), it is time to look forward to the new year: new faces, new life, and new opportunities. The longer I stay here the more I feel the importance of this rhythm. It is comfortable, safe and satisfying. The same thing happens every year. The emotions fit the weather. Routine is so integral to human life.