Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1904-09-28
O-Une
The Story Of a
Little Japanese
Girl and the
Cherry-BlOS-
O. SOn1ing. Cd
OBSERVATION-DISCLOSURES

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The sun was warm on the matched
roofs and the groves Of trees, and
merry crowd filled the streets of the
little Japanese village, for it was the
festival of the cherry blossoming.
In Japan the Sunrise Kingdom"
as it is called, the calendar is divided
into the time of the blossoming Of the
flowers. The camellia, sometimes
Shrouded in snOwhakes, helps to ush-
er in the New Year; then, after few
weeks Of cold rains and dull skies,
the branches of the withered old
black plum trees are starred with
fragrant white flowers, followed soon
by the herry-blossoming, and until
November, when the brilliant maple
leaves light up the scene, this gentle
people count the seasons in flowers.
In this little village most of the
cottages had matched caps on their
heads. Some were worn with age
and rain, but Dame Nature had
patched them with velvety mosses
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picture. There were-Unly two streets
and these ran almost at right angles
like rude cross. The sea, curving
far inland, Rugged the houses with
caps of thatch on two sides, SO that
one could hardly help looking out
over the water wherever he STOOD,
Even though they wearied of the seas
rough caresses they could not run
away, for great hills guarded them
at the rear, and only stepped away
little at one side to let the smiling
rice fields climb down, terrace by
terrace.
If you have never seen a Japanese
rice field you would be surprised to
see one. The plants are set out IN
the mushiest mud that you can think
of. The workmen wade up to their
knees in this thin mud and set out
the plants; then, as they grow up,
there are men and boys who weed
them, STOPPING all day until their
backs are weary. At first the field
looks like a great pond or lake : then
some morning you look across it and
it is all emerald green. A week or
SO later, the wind blowing tseyoss it
rippIes the rice stalks like & 81 g.
green waves and it is beautiful. Rails
ed paths cross the field and inclose
them, and in the corners are great
beds of pink lotus flowers, something
like pink water-lilies, with broad, fiat,
pad-like leaves If you look across the
fields at nightfall, you may occasion
ally see crane standing on one foot,
and looking like bird stuck down on
a long black stick. If the crop ma
lures early in the season you will
hear more frogs croaking than you
ever heard before, for the fine, fat
bugs that live in the mud are just
to frog taste. Looking down on the
fields from high up on the mountain
side it looks as though someone had
made them to order, leveled off ter
race on the steep slope and showed
each one in, for there is level space
with a rice field slid over it, then
climb and another field, sometimes
four or five in succession. When the
rice begins TO ripen the birds must
be kept away by boys with wooden
clackers, something like those our
boys play with. But the fields are
wide and the birds SO hungry and az
gravating, that it could not by any
stretch of the word be called fun for
a wide-awalSe boy.
But we must go back to the little
village with matched roofs and the
merry crowd in the streets. There
were women in gay kimonos of silk
and crepe, with huge sashes and
wooden clogs, their hair piled high in
black coils. There were little maids
like women of small size, only the
wee maids sash was soft and the
grown-up sash was stiff and wide The
babies were strapped on the back Of
mother or sister, but some learned to
cling and get comfortable position.
Their heads, bare and shining, ex-
cept for few tufts of black hair,
wobbled and bcbbed as if they would
roll off, but their soft tiny hands
clung tightly to the neck OF the bear
er, and they never cried.
There were little men in long robes,
finriksha runners in washbowlshaped
straw hats, laborers with bare brown
legs wearing blue coats with big let
tiers stamped on the back, and over