I've never seen a rainbow in winter, have you? Rainbows seem to be a summertime thing. Why that should be, I have no idea; it's simply a fact of natural life. However, long observation of nature says that the border line between the time of no rainbows and the time when they can be seen is now.
A Japanese calendar, something like The Farmer's Almanac, sets the date of the first chance to see a rainbow as April 15.
It rained all day on April 15 this year. Maybe tomorrow the sun will shine through the clouds. Let the rainbow season begin!
2010年4月16日金曜日
2010年4月7日水曜日
Flower Time
Everyone knows that the end of March/beginning of April is cherry blossom time in Japan. But what about the other flowers? Is it fair that the word "flower" in a Japanese poem almost always refers to cherry blossoms?
Some people think not.
There are some flowers that are so lovely, if they were blooming all by themselves in an otherwise forlorn location, the people who saw them would swoon for joy.
I love the cherry blossoms as much as the next person, but in deference to the others who also bloom, the photo I am posting is not of a cherry tree. It's of a type of chrysanthemum that gives until there's nothing left to give from December to April, even blossoming through the snow.
Some people think not.
There are some flowers that are so lovely, if they were blooming all by themselves in an otherwise forlorn location, the people who saw them would swoon for joy.
I love the cherry blossoms as much as the next person, but in deference to the others who also bloom, the photo I am posting is not of a cherry tree. It's of a type of chrysanthemum that gives until there's nothing left to give from December to April, even blossoming through the snow.
2010年3月12日金曜日
Sanshin Day 2010
Sanshin Day in Naha, March 4, began with the traditional melody "Kageyadefu". It's easy to play but hard to sing. The words mean something like, "How shall I describe the beauty of today? Like a flower, a fresh flower, a dew-laden bud about to open."
2010年3月7日日曜日
Egad! What happened to Katsuren Castle?
Here is the castle wall after the earthquake.
The photo is copied from The Okinawa Times, February 27 online edition.
2010年3月6日土曜日
The Once in a Hundred Years Earthquake
The tsunami that followed the big earthquake in Chile was close to a non-event in Okinawa, which is good. The earthquake the day before made a much bigger impression. Like most of Japan, Okinawa experiences frequent tremors, but hardly anyone alive today can remember one as strong as the one that rocked Okinawa last weekend.
It was rated five on Japan's magnitude scale. This is not the Richter scale, but the one in common use in Japan.
Magnitude One is easily overlooked. Magnitude Two is noticeable to people who have nothing else going on around them to distract them. Magnitude Three rattles windows and doors as it gently rocks buildings. You might not notice it if you are walking outdoors or driving. Magnitude Four knows how to get attention, and beyond level four, matters begin to get serious.
During a Magnitude Five earthquake, it is difficult to stand up. Things will topple off shelves, window glass might break, weakly constructed concrete walls and the like are likely to topple, signs hung outside buildings are quite likely to break loose and crash onto the streets, and pavements might ripple and crack.
Okinawa's recent earthquake was the first Magnitude Five quake in a hundred years.
One of the victims was the castle that gave its name to my first novel, Katsuren. Parts of the remaining stone wall from the 12th century structure crumbled and fell apart. The good news is that, because Katsuren has been designated a world cultural heritage site by UNESCO, it will be rebuilt.
It was rated five on Japan's magnitude scale. This is not the Richter scale, but the one in common use in Japan.
Magnitude One is easily overlooked. Magnitude Two is noticeable to people who have nothing else going on around them to distract them. Magnitude Three rattles windows and doors as it gently rocks buildings. You might not notice it if you are walking outdoors or driving. Magnitude Four knows how to get attention, and beyond level four, matters begin to get serious.
During a Magnitude Five earthquake, it is difficult to stand up. Things will topple off shelves, window glass might break, weakly constructed concrete walls and the like are likely to topple, signs hung outside buildings are quite likely to break loose and crash onto the streets, and pavements might ripple and crack.
Okinawa's recent earthquake was the first Magnitude Five quake in a hundred years.
One of the victims was the castle that gave its name to my first novel, Katsuren. Parts of the remaining stone wall from the 12th century structure crumbled and fell apart. The good news is that, because Katsuren has been designated a world cultural heritage site by UNESCO, it will be rebuilt.
2010年2月28日日曜日
Tsunami!
Chile suffered the worst of it, but when the subterranean plate moved, it also set loose reverberations that were felt halfway around the world. All of Japan's Pacific coast from Hokkaido to Okinawa is getting soaked by tsunami waves.
Luckily, there was plenty of warning. So far there are no injuries and minimal damage.
How do you get ready for a tsunami?
First, you move the boats. This is a fishing country, and boats are precious. Some are hauled out of the harbors and up onto high ground. Others are sailed out to sea.
Second, you close the water gates. These are enormous movable walls about six feet high. Today's tsunami didn't top two meters, so those walls were worth their weight in gold.
Meanwhile, you move out the old people and the children. The younger folk and the men who are busy moving the boats and sealing the water gates follow. Depending on the population of the coastal settlements, from one thousand to ten thousand people/town have to be relocated before the waves strike.
The tsunami here look so mild, you might wonder what the fuss is all about. They are not like the ones in the movies that come roaring in and swallow skyscrapers whole.
They are much sneakier.
When you see the news photos at the height of the tsunami, you see what looks like a very calm lake covering the streets and swirling gently around the buildings. If you look at the same area 15 minutes later, you will see wet ground where the water was.
What you don't see is the enormous power of all that water draining back to sea in a matter of minutes. A liter of water weighs 1 kilogram. An average adult weighs about 60 kg. How many liters does it take to cover a village, say, one foot deep? I have no idea. But when that amount of water weight moves, nothing as puny as a human being can stop it. That's where the greatest danger lies, and that is why people are sitting patiently on the floors of school gyms and wherever else they have evacuated to until all the water is back in the ocean where it belongs. Even if it takes until tomorrow.
Luckily, there was plenty of warning. So far there are no injuries and minimal damage.
How do you get ready for a tsunami?
First, you move the boats. This is a fishing country, and boats are precious. Some are hauled out of the harbors and up onto high ground. Others are sailed out to sea.
Second, you close the water gates. These are enormous movable walls about six feet high. Today's tsunami didn't top two meters, so those walls were worth their weight in gold.
Meanwhile, you move out the old people and the children. The younger folk and the men who are busy moving the boats and sealing the water gates follow. Depending on the population of the coastal settlements, from one thousand to ten thousand people/town have to be relocated before the waves strike.
The tsunami here look so mild, you might wonder what the fuss is all about. They are not like the ones in the movies that come roaring in and swallow skyscrapers whole.
They are much sneakier.
When you see the news photos at the height of the tsunami, you see what looks like a very calm lake covering the streets and swirling gently around the buildings. If you look at the same area 15 minutes later, you will see wet ground where the water was.
What you don't see is the enormous power of all that water draining back to sea in a matter of minutes. A liter of water weighs 1 kilogram. An average adult weighs about 60 kg. How many liters does it take to cover a village, say, one foot deep? I have no idea. But when that amount of water weight moves, nothing as puny as a human being can stop it. That's where the greatest danger lies, and that is why people are sitting patiently on the floors of school gyms and wherever else they have evacuated to until all the water is back in the ocean where it belongs. Even if it takes until tomorrow.
登録:
投稿 (Atom)
