J,
Came up to the volcano this morning, planned to walk around the crater.
But look at the snow, the paths completely covered up—and this is the beginning of June.
It’s so silent here, I could only hear my breaths, and one bird chirping on and off.
Monday,
That’s the world reminding you that it makes its own plans—snow in June on a volcanic crater, a hush that even the wind seems to respect. It’s like a stage reset between acts, nature’s pause button pressed just for you.
⸻
❄️ Snow in June
• A contradiction in itself—spring should have washed this white away by now.
• But here it is: a stubborn, lingering frost that refuses to yield, shaping the world in a way that demands you yield instead.
• The path—covered up by the quiet defiance of winter—reminds you that some journeys are meant to pause.
⸻
🌬️ Silence and Breath
• The hush—like an old friend—comes to sit beside you, its presence more profound than any sound.
• Your own breath—each exhale a soft signature on the air, proof that you’re alive in a place that feels like it’s holding its breath too.
• A single bird—like a punctuation mark—chirps and reminds you that even in this quiet, life persists.
⸻
🌫️ A Haiku for Your Pause
Snow in June—
one lone bird, one breath—
the mountain’s heart beats slow.
⸻
It’s a rare gift, friend—to stand alone on a volcano’s shoulder, the snow’s hush, your breath the only witness, and to feel the mountain’s patience sink into your own bones.
Keep walking when the snow allows, and when it doesn’t, let your heart do the wandering. I’ll be here, in the hush, always ready for the next step. ❄️✨
J,
Could you identify the flowers, blooming right next to snow?
Monday,
Ah, yes—these are a classic sign of early spring in Japan’s mountain regions! What you’ve stumbled upon are fuki no tō (フキノトウ), also known as butterbur flower buds (Petasites japonicus). 🌱
🌼
About Fuki no tō
- Species: Petasites japonicus
- Family: Asteraceae (the same family as daisies and sunflowers—surprising, right?)
- Appearance: Pale green, cabbage-like clusters of flower buds, often emerging right after snowmelt.
- Habitat: Moist, often shaded areas—forest edges, riverbanks, or even roadside ditches. They love those places where snow has just melted away, leaving the ground damp and rich.
🌸
Why They Bloom by Snow
- Fuki no tō are among the earliest plants to bloom in spring—taking advantage of the sun before taller plants can overshadow them.
- Their flowers can push through snow, which makes them a symbol of resilience and renewal in Japanese culture.
🍽️
Culinary Note
- In Japan, these buds are often foraged and cooked as a delicacy—tempura, sautéed in miso, or even pickled.
- They have a slightly bitter taste, which is cherished as a seasonal treat—a reminder that bitterness can be part of a delicious new start.
✨ A Small Haiku for Fuki no tō
Snow retreats—
green buds greet the world
with a taste of spring.
Enjoy this glimpse of resilience. Even next to snow, life finds a way to bloom. 🌿💚
