Prefecture.
A swan paddles along the moat of Matsumoto Castle in Nagano Prefecture.
Himeji Castle framed by weeping willow fronds.
Korakuen Castle reflected in the Asahi River in Okayama.
Korakuen Castle in Okayama, nicknamed “Crow Castle” for its dark color.
Triangular shooting apertures line a castle staircase.
Gables not only added beauty to castle architecture but sometimes served to confuse attacking enemies about the number of floors within.
A pine tree stands in front of a stone castle foundation.
Partially restored Himeji Castle, nicknamed “Heron Castle” for its white color, is seen here over tiled castle walls.
cherry blossoms
Ever since wild flowering cherry trees found growing in the foothills around Nara and Kyoto were transplanted to the Heian capital’s formal gardens over a thousand years ago, spring in Japan has never been the same. As cloud-like canopies of cherry blossoms (sakura) spread across gardens, parks and riverbanks, a certain giddiness overtakes the land and celebration becomes the order of the day. Once only an aristocratic diversion, by the seventeenth century the common people too had discovered the pleasures of honorable flower viewing or o-hanami. By the millions, the population happily succumbs to the irresistible allure of this harbinger of spring. Issa, haiku poet of old, once put brush to paper with this sentiment:
We human beings
Squirming about among
The flowers that bloom.
Although written long ago, Issa could just as well have been writing of each year’s jostling, merry crowds at Tokyo’s Ueno Park, Kyoto’s Heian Shrine, or any of a multitude of celebrated viewing spots across the country.
The advancing “wave” of blooming trees from Okinawa in the far south to Hokkaido in the north, its stages enthusiastically reported by the media, can last nearly two months, although the life span of the delicate blossoms is actually little more than a week. Aside from its astonishing beauty, it is this very brevity that endears the flower to the Japanese. It is the most perfect of blooms, they say, possessing much-valued purity and simplicity. And when the petals fall, they seem to poignantly embody Buddhist thought about the ephemeral nature of life.
Blooms at Kyoto’s Heian Shrine.
A majestic tree in Kyoto’s Imperial Park.
A cluster of blossoms (kawazuzakura) in Izu.
A weeping cherry tree at Kyoto’s Heian Shrine.
Visitors celebrate o-hanami in Kakunodate, Akita Prefecture.
Early blooming kawazu-zakura in Izu.
A red drum bridge spanning a castle moat in Yonezawa, Yamagata Prefecture, is a stark contrast to the pale pink of blossoms.
Fallen petals float on a pond in Ueno Park, Tokyo.
Petals float in a water basin (chozubachi) in a Kyoto garden.
gardens
Japanese garden art remains unsurpassed throughout the world. From earliest times, magnificent trees and rocks were seen as dwelling places of the divine. The predecessor of the garden concept was the early place of worship—a sacred clearing in a grove of trees. As early as the eighth century, evidenced by poetry of the time, gardens imitating natural vistas were constructed along the lines of T’ang gardens observed by court emissaries to China. The Japanese have been creating wonderful gardens (niwa) ever since.
In time, Buddhism, thanks to its greatly expanding popularity and imperial and aristocratic patrons, accumulated great power and wealth. With their substantial means, temples commissioned fine works of sacred art—sculptures, scrolls and paintings. Wondrous gardens were also created. These cultivated spots stood in contrast to the areas of abundant and untamed nature that then surrounded them.
Frequently created by the priests and monks themselves, many of the gardens sought to present a glimpse of Paradise on Earth. Rare rocks and careful plantings created beautiful scenes infused with several layers of meaning. Some gardens emphasized changing landscapes as a viewer moved along a designated path. Others were meant to be seen through the enhancing frame of a window or open door, bringing adjacent or sometimes distant vistas into the overall “picture” in a technique known as shakkei or “borrowed scenery.”
Some of the most intriguing Japanese gardens are those predominantly without growing things, in particular the Zen-inspired dry karesansui gardens, “mountains and waters without water,” that are simply and sparely styled from rocks, pebbles or raked sand to represent rivers or seas.
Some “well-dressed” gardens can have their own accessories. Ishidoro are stone lanterns that light the pathways of stroll gardens after dark.
The flickering candles cast a delightful play of light and shadow as they enhance enjoyment of the scene. In temple gardens, such lanterns had often been given as votive offerings.
Stone is also utilized as the practical and appealing natural material for chozubachi or water basins. The jewel-like water ripples gently with a breeze and reflects the sky above and surrounding trees to multiply the joy of nature.
The round window (yoshino mado) of the teahouse Muji-an looks out on the gardens of Ritsurin
