In Japan’s 72 traditional micro seasons, winter gradually hints at giving way to spring with rain moistening the soil, mists that linger, and the surfacing of hibernating insects. In Tokyo, some of the old signs of transition still appear, but I tend to notice spring’s arrival elsewhere.
As I check the weather each morning, I now see forecasts reminding me that a pernicious cloud of pollen will soon be descending upon the city. This week, it’s light blue icons telling us there’s a little cedar in the air, though it won’t be long before they are replaced by the ominous red and purple warnings of 非常に多い and 極めて多い, and I’ll be wishing I owned a Hazmat suit.
Likewise, in the mall across from home, the special display at the drugstore is no longer dedicated to cold and flu remedies – it’s antihistamines, eye drops, nasal sprays, and all sorts of gimmicks aimed at spring sniffers like me.
And in the supermarket, all that remains of the winter mikan from Wakayama are withering on discount, their shelf space increasingly given over to strawberries from Tochigi and a selection of chunkier citruses.
picking the pips
from a ponkan
a tickle in my nose