The smell of rain is still in the morning rice field.
Whenever the wind moves over the wet leaves, the rice plants slowly sway.
There are 30 days left until harvest.
The ears of rice are turning a nice color.
Everything has gone well so far.
But there is nothing I can do about a typhoon.
I feel like something is moving somewhere beyond the sky. It makes me uneasy.
Please, don't fall down.
I say those words to myself again and again.
The Chinese cabbage I planted around Obon quickly began to sprout.
Every time I see those tiny two leaves, I feel a little happy.
Soon, I will move them to the field.
I can already imagine them moving in the wind.
The daikon radishes sprouted five days after I planted the seeds directly in the field.
I never get tired of watching the little white shoots come out through the cracks in the soil.
The cucumbers and green beans are already settled in the field.
Especially the green beans.
They seem to be saying, “Now it’s my season!”
They are growing like crazy.
The pumpkins are the second crop I planted for autumn.
I am planting them in the field now.
The pumpkins at this time of year look as if they are in a hurry, trying to catch up with the season.
In September, I will plant green onions, komatsuna, shungiku, kakinna, and onions.
In October, I will plant snow peas and spinach.
When I put it all together like this, I realize that autumn is quietly busy.
But I like the way the feeling of the season changes every time I plant a seed.
Little by little, the field begins to take on the colors of autumn.
The sweet potatoes and taro still have some time before harvest.
I don't know what they look like under the soil until I dig them up.
And I like that.
I pull out carrots and green onions only when I need them to eat.
Just what I need. Just what I need for today.
In the field, there are always things that are growing and things that are coming to an end, all at the same time.