Beginning of Summer (Rikka 立夏)
Frogs start to cry (Kaeru hajimete naku 蛙始鳴) May 5-9
Worms surface (Mimizu izuru 蚯蚓出) May 10-14
Bamboo shoots sprout (Takenoko shozu 竹笋生) May 15-20
<Calligraphy by Chieko>
Frogs Start to Cry
When I was a little girl, I never saw my father during the week because he left for work before the children woke up and came home after we went to sleep. When he was home on the weekends, he was always very tired. If my sisters and I begged him to play, he would often suggest, “sure, let’s pretend to nap,” at which point we immediately refused and ran off. When we returned, we found our father snoring on the tatami mat with my baby sister on his side. She was a constant victim to his scheme because she quickly fell asleep “pretending” next to my father.
I think many Japanese salaryman fathers in the 1970s were just like mine, overworked and exhausted, because, it seemed, they were on a mission to contribute to Japan’s rapid growth and industrialization. My father couldn’t play with us often and, ironically, that’s the reason I vividly remember the times when he did. We played badminton in the car park and the Reversi board game that was popular in Japan at the time. These times were fun, but out of all the things I did with my father, I enjoyed singing with him the most.
My father had tuberculosis when he was in high school that almost took his life, and he lost a part of his lung through an operation. A big scar remains across his back that always surprised people when we went to the swimming pool together. When we were very young, my father told us that the scar was made by a big cat that clawed at him in a dark alley. So we never went into dark alleys.
After spending two years in the hospital, the doctor suggested to my father to take up singing as therapy to improve his lung capacity and breathing. My father obediently joined a choir for several years and because of this, he loved to sing and taught us many songs.
The Frogs’ Song (kaeruno uta) was one of the first songs that everyone, including my little sister, could sing because it was simple and short. Like the song “row, row, row your boat”, the song is sung in a round and as a child I thought that we really sounded like a group of frogs when we sang the “gwa gwa” part together. Until recently, I was convinced that this song was Japanese in origin but discovered to my surprise that the melody is from a German folk song from the 19th century called Froschgesang.
For my father’s work, our young family moved to the suburban areas of Kanagawa, Fukuoka, and Chiba in a span of a few years. In Chiba, there were many rice paddies close to our apartment. In the early summer when these fields were filled with water, a massive chorus of frogs could be heard. These frogs laid eggs that looked like delicate strings of beads covered in jelly.
Once, my friend and I went to look for tadpoles in the rice paddies after daycare. We loudly sang the Frogs’ Song in an endless loop as we walked in our rain boots because this never-ending song was perfect for our childish persistence, and we were happy that no adult was telling us to stop. When we arrived at the rice paddies, we saw many tadpoles swimming in the shallow warm water.
Some tadpoles had already started to grow legs. We gently scooped a few in our hands and flipped them to look at the spirals in their bellies. We were completely absorbed in our play until my friend tried to take a step and lost her boot in the mud. We pulled and pulled to retrieve it, but the suction of the mud was too strong. Soon the boot disappeared completely into the mud, and we had to give up because the five o’clock song played from the loudspeakers and this was the time that we had to go home.
My friend used my shoulder to hop on her single booted foot, so we trudged very slowly. As darkness began to fall, we started sobbing quietly as we walked. I felt responsible for her boot and hoped that her mother won’t scold her for losing it. I was also worried that my mother would be angry when I got home covered in mud.
I can’t remember my friend’s name now, or what happened after we got home that evening. Shortly after the incident, my friend moved away because her father had to work in Kansai. My father also stopped singing because the opportunities simply disappeared from our lives as we grew up. Now when I hear frogs cry, I think about singing the Frog’s Song with my father, and the little orange rain boot stuck in the rice paddy field.
Lovely memory = thanks for sharing ! And interesting to learn of the 72 seasons – deep connection to nature so much a part of Japanese culture. Happy summer to you !
Susan,
Thank you so much for your comment which I really appreciate because it encourages me so much, and for reading the essay! Happy summer to you too.
Thank you so much! This is beautiful! Do you know a book by Liza Dalby (“East Wind Melts the Ice,” University of California Press) on the 72 microseasons? She writes about Japan but also about her garden in Berkeley. It’s a lovely book, and if you don’t have it I would love to send you a copy . . . You have brightened my life so much; congratulations on the anniversary of Entoten!
Susan,
Thank you for your comment, it means so much to me because I always think of you as I write 🙂
I’ve never heard of the book by Liza and can’t wait to read it. Thank you so much!! Please come to San Diego again~
Happy 10th anniversary for your shop which is more a center of your heart where aesthetics bloom each season. Thank you for your essays and for your support of KYOTO JOURNAL also. I look forward to meeting you in person very soon.
Lauren,
Thank you so much for your comment and kind words. I really appreciate that you take the time to read and comment on my blog. Kyoto Journal and tea makes me feel connected to you, and I can’t wait to meet you. I’ll email you soon!
Congratulations on your Green Card!
I love your writing concept and the debut realisation of this series.
The feelings your words awaken and the memories of our own childhoods help break through the digital carapaces we have accreted around us.
Thank you Laura for your comment and for reading my essay. When I started in 2012, I was so excited and happy about the Internet’s power to connect us all. Over the years I’ve realized that the Internet can also disconnect us as powerfully, so I’m glad that we can celebrate its ability to bring us together through these humble essays.
A perfect start to summer – I think these nostalgic memories are what the season is made of. Beautiful to see the calligraphy pairings – wishing you many more successful years with your business too!
Joanna,
Thank you for reading my essay and for your kind comment and good wishes. I think if we grew up together, we would have gone tadpole hunting together! I’m grateful that the Internet and your poem has connected us!
Ai, This writing was delightful to read. So many memories stored within us that a word or someone else’s
memory triggers for us. Keep writing! The Calligraphy is beautiful. Such a gift you and your sharing of your
Culture are for us who have not or cannot travel to Japan and experience it first hand! Many hugs, Che’usa
Che’usa,
Thank you for reading and for taking the time to comment. This has been a great exercise to open the drawers of memories that I haven’t touched in so many years. I read that Kishida said that Japan will re-open in June while he was in London, so I hope that many more people will be able to travel in Japan soon.
Happy 10 years to you and Entoten! Your writing is an elegant gift, the kind that is delightful to read and reread. I could easily hear your voice as I read through it. Thank you for sharing these memories with us, Ai. I’m so happy you’re doing this!
Lani,
Thank you so much for reading and for your kind comment. Your encouragement keeps me going! I’m interested in your experiences in Japan during the time you taught there, and hope that you’ll share them over tea sometime.
What a payoff that haiku-like last sentence is. Worthy of Issa!!
Dirk,
Thank you for reading and for your comment. I’ve stared into the eyes of frogs but I always moved first!