Typhoon No. 15 made landfall in Ibaraki Prefecture for the first time. What was even more unusual was its path—from east to west, going against what we normally expect from a typhoon. There was no clear blue sky after the storm. Instead, the rain just kept falling slowly. The news showed areas that had suffered serious damage, and it was painful to watch.
Fortunately, Nakanojo was spared. The wind and rain were not severe, and for our fields, the rain was a long-awaited gift. Even the same typhoon can show a completely different face depending on the place. Once again, I feel that nature is not something we can understand only from a human point of view.
Before the rain came, the fields I had cleared of weeds for the autumn vegetables were extremely dry and rough. I had been waiting and waiting for rain, but the sky would not answer. Finally, the typhoon brought the rain we needed. Even with the typhoon between yesterday and today, I have continued clearing weeds in the fields.
At the same time, I am collecting seeds from peas that had been hidden in the bushes. If the seeds get wet and fall onto the ground, the ripe seeds may quickly start to grow. These seeds are for planting in October, so I have to rescue the pods one by one. It is a tedious job, but it is important work for the next season.
And then there are the cucumbers. One plant that I had carefully grown suddenly died. Something was clearly wrong. If I dig around the base of the plant, I will probably find a cutworm. If I leave it alone, the next plant may suffer the same fate. Noticing even one sick or dying plant can help prevent the problem from spreading.
Typhoon No. 17 is also large and appears to be heading toward the Kanto region again. Nature does not always move as we expect. We can prepare for rain and wind, but we cannot make nature follow our plans.
I am also worried about the rice fields. The rice has begun to produce ears, and the grains are now entering the stage when they start to fill. Weather at this time is very important.
Farmers are controlled by the weather, troubled by insects, and still go out every day to check the fields. That is farming. It is a daily accumulation of small observations and decisions.
That is why I do not want to depend too much on fixed ideas. Instead of thinking, “This is how it usually happens,” I want to look carefully and ask, “What is happening this year?”
The fields teach me something every day.
Question what you think you know. And see for yourself.
Farming cannot be done by following a textbook alone.