The morning after our boar extravaganza, I and the others who’d stayed the night helped clean up. The women had already taken care of the dishes and other smaller things last night, leaving us to lug heavy stuff around and clean the wide garden. I mostly worked on the garden, and I made sure to wash the stone the chickens had eaten on.
I really can’t thank the Yumotos enough for yesterday.
Incidentally, the reason Katsuragi-san—who also lives in the mountains—had stayed the night was because she’d been with an acquaintance yesterday, but that woman’s husband was afraid of reptiles, so they hadn’t been able to stay at her place. At that size, I can see why you’d be scared, even if you’re okay with reptiles.
The next few days passed by without anything noteworthy happening.
The grass was growing nonstop as usual, and the chickens were running around the mountain. As for me, I had plenty on my plate, from picking weeds near the fields to mowing the grass in overgrown areas. I’ve heard too much grass is bad for the soil. I also needed to check the riverbank and prune trees where needed.
The mountain forest around here was all-natural and rich in vegetation—I’d heard this was the case for almost all of the mountains north of the village. I spent most of my free time leafing through books about wild mountain plants and flowers—though to be honest, I still had trouble identifying them—and reading encyclopedias to find out more about birds, insects, and reptiles. Thank god for the internet.
There was always at least one chicken following me around too. These trusty bodyguards constantly protected me when we ran into vipers and such. There’s no way they’re regular chickens, right? I’m really glad I got them at the festival that day.
There was also a cemetery some way up into the mountain. (More on that later.) I thought it’d be a good idea to do some maintenance on it, so I drove the truck up there. Yuma was with me today. As soon as she got out of the truck, she started pecking at the ground.
Near the back of the cemetery, I found some blossoming yae-zakura trees, also known as double cherry blossom trees. I didn’t know much about flowers; I hadn’t even known what those trees were the first time I’d seen them. Back when I was a kid, my sister had actually told me what they were called, and now that I was witnessing them in full bloom, even I could tell they were yae-zakura.
“Eh? Isn’t it almost May already?” I asked.
Compared to Yoshino cherries, which were the most common type of cherry tree, the blooming season for yae-zakura was a bit later. Even so, I thought it was probably unusual to see them in bloom this late into April. I guess because they’re in the mountains...? I looked it up later, and apparently, they bloom around May.
“That reminds me, I didn’t go flower viewing this year...”
Usually, I’d go flower viewing around late March or early April, but it’d still been too cold back then to bother.
I hadn’t heard anything about it from the Yumotos either, so maybe there wasn’t much of a flower-viewing tradition around these parts. Maybe they’re too busy with farmwork to go stare at some flowers.
After doing some cleaning in the cemetery, I went home and started preparations to go flower viewing by myself.
Some tea, beer, pickled vegetables, rice crackers... I also had some cooked rice at home, though it wasn’t freshly prepared, and I made a few onigiri. No dango...
I got some leafy greens for Yuma and a plastic sheet to sit on before heading back up to the cemetery.
Yuma tilted her head. She was probably confused about why we were going back.
“Yuma, let’s go flower viewing.”
“Flower?” she repeated.
I set a can of beer and an onigiri on one of the larger graves as an offering—the rest I kept for myself. I gave Yuma some of the vegetables; after eating them, she exclaimed, “Flower!”
“Yuma?”
“Flower!”
She inched closer to me.
Wait, does she think these vegetables are the “flowers” I’m talking about?
“Yuma, I meant those flowers over there,” I told her, pointing at the yae-zakura. “We’re eating and drinking while enjoying the view.”
She tilted her neck again, then looked back at me and repeated, “Flower!”
Ha ha, now you’ve got it.
“Here, eat up.”
I gave her the rest of the vegetables little by little. There wasn’t anyone nearby, but I decided not to drink the beer. I opened the bottle of tea instead and started eating the pickles and crackers. Seeing cherry blossoms always makes it feel like spring, even if they’re not Yoshino cherries. I spent a while appreciating the blossoms overhead.
Once I’d had my fill, I took the beer and onigiri from the grave and prepared to leave.
“I hope you won’t mind if I come again next year to see the flowers,” I said, clasping my hands before the grave. Afterward, I headed home.
Next time, I’d like to take Pochi and Tama too.
Later that night, as I opened the beer can I’d taken from the grave, I suddenly thought, Oh, Golden Week starts tomorrow, huh?
I didn’t go to a formal job anymore. I was starting to lose track of dates and even days of the week.
Speaking of which, according to Machiko-san, this area got a few visitors during the holidays. People who came to visit family already knew that the mountains were private property, so they didn’t cause much trouble. The problem was tourists. I do wonder why someone would want to come here on holiday... But anyway, she said that occasionally, people barged into the mountains, camped, and went home without cleaning up after themselves. Sometimes they’d also pick wild plants and bamboo sprouts without permission. I’d already told the Yumotos and other acquaintances that they were free to come and pick stuff growing on my mountain, but I didn’t want any strangers coming here.