The extraordinary is a daily occurrence and I feel like I'm about to break down.

Heavy rain fell on the morning of September 9. There were periods of relief, but the rain continued into the next day.

Landslides and river flooding occurred in various parts of the Noto Peninsula. As a result, buildings, bridges, vehicles, and household goods were flooded, washed away, or collapsed. Roads and lifelines were cut off, and some areas and villages were isolated.

The unimaginable events following the New Year's Day earthquake have threatened the livelihoods of many people and left them facing hardship.

Noto Peninsula is in the midst of chaos. Now, about half a month later, in the city of Wajima, the cleanup and restoration work is progressing little by little, and while support is being received, traffic jams are occurring. Cars with license plates from all over Japan are lined up here and there on the usually deserted roads and parking lots. Even if you try to take a detour, there are many road closures due to fallen trees and landslides, and you have to go back and forth on bumpy roads. The completely changed townscape leaves you speechless.

Even if we lament, "Why did this happen?", we can't find a place to vent our feelings. The faces of those who were working towards recovery and reconstruction after the earthquake are clouded.

Looking up at the clouds of autumn in the air cloudy with dust and white dust, I feel as if the heavy rain is both encouraging and testing me, telling me that I have no choice but to face each thing in front of me one by one and live my life surrendering myself to the power of nature.

The following was written before the torrential rains hit. Please forgive the somewhat leisurely tone.

The struggle between summer and autumn

Even in September, the temperature continues to exceed 9 degrees Celsius. The cicadas can be heard from the trees, and the insects can be heard from the grass. Flocks of swallows flying across the sky, singing as if they are saying farewell as they depart for the tropics.

Listening to the intertwining sounds in a field filled with pampas grass up to height, I felt as if I was standing in the middle of the struggle between summer and autumn.

At the local produce market, new rice and autumn eggplants are delicious. The young myoga ginger that was enjoyed all summer is about to disappear. In normal years, white figs are available and enjoyed as compote. Chestnuts are simmered in syrup, hagi bush clover is made in time for the equinox, and preserved foods are made from seasonal shiso berries and taro stems called "zuiki."

As the seasons change with festivals and other special occasions, tastes naturally change as well, but this is not the case this year.

Visiting a lacquer tapping craftsman

In the lingering heat of summer, we visited lacquer tapping craftsman Nagahira Isamu.

We met at a lacquer tree plantation a little way from the downtown area of ​​Wajima, and the first thing he said was, "Hey, how have you been?" Chohei-san looked fresh and had the same cheerful smile as always. As soon as we said hello, he picked up the set of lacquer tapping tools he had loaded onto his light truck and dashed off into the lacquer forest. There were several lacquer trees there that had been planted about 10 years ago.

All the trees had sturdy trunks, vigorously growing branches, and lush green leaves that provided shade under the scorching sun. Broad-leaved trees such as persimmons, chestnuts, and plums were growing nearby, and a pleasant breeze was blowing.

There are already many black scars on the urushi trees, and when I visited on September 9th, I had seen the 9th. This season, it was sunny and the urushi tapping went smoothly, and the trees were growing well, so the amount of urushi harvested was high.

Urushi trees are often planted in the mountains, but in the past they were also planted on the ridges of rice paddies and near houses. I have heard stories from the fathers of Wajima about how, in the days when commercial adhesives were not available, they planted urushi trees on the mountains behind their homes and used the lacquer from the trees to repair household items or for other occasions.

Urushi is now disliked because it causes skin rashes, but until a long time ago it was a tree that was a part of people's lives. Furthermore, going back to ancient times, lacquer was included in the tax system of the taxation system, and in the 17th century, the Kaga Domain issued a forest protection law called the "Seven Trees System" in Noto Province, restricting the felling of trees including urushi.

Until the middle of the Showa era, there were many "scrapers" in Noto, but since the start of the Reiwa era, Chohei is the only one still actively tapping lacquer in Wajima.

People who live with the lacquer tree

Now the work of harvesting lacquer begins. Chohei makes a cut in the trunk with a sickle, and lacquer sap slowly oozes out from the wound. Then, so as not to miss a single drop, he carefully scoops it up with a spatula and collects it in a cylindrical container called a "takappo." No matter how many times he taps, lacquer sap overflows from the cut close to the root of the tree. After tapping one tree, he moves on to the next tree, but when the timing is right, he returns to the previous tree to collect the lacquer that has oozed again.

From this series of tasks, I can feel Chohei's philosophy, which cannot be expressed in words. As he works silently, he seems to be exposing his own heart and speaking to the life force of the wood itself. I was suddenly reminded that the origins of the people who live in this climate and their journey with lacquer are connected here.

Chohei's house collapsed in the New Year's Day earthquake, and he is now living in temporary housing, unable to work in the rice fields. He visits several planting sites in Wajima City, and this year he has tapped 40 to 50 urushi trees. I am in awe of Chohei's calm and composed attitude, and his strong way of life, which seems to have taken root in the Noto soil.

After the work was finished, we picked up some chestnuts from the chestnut burrs that had fallen at our feet and took them home as a souvenir. We savored their delicious flavor at dinner.

The sun began to set just before 6pm. I took the time to look at the autumn clouds before it got dark and felt refreshed.

At night, I spotted the moon between the clouds and stopped for a while. It was late September, and the heat was finally subsiding.

“Wajima News ~While looking up at the starry sky~” is…

Yukiko Akiyama, a lacquer artist who lives in Wajima, writes ``Wajima News ~While looking up at the starry sky~''. 30 minutes by car from the center of Wajima City. The Kuroshima area, located in the northwestern part of the Noto Peninsula, flourished as a residence for Kitamae-bune ship owners and sailors, and its beautiful landscape with black-tiled roofs has been designated as a nationally important preservation district for groups of traditional buildings. I did. After 16 years in Wajima, lacquer artist Yukiko Akiyama set up a workshop in an old private house in the Kuroshima district, and was just about to work on her work while restoring it, when she was struck by the earthquake. Like many buildings, Akiyama's workshop collapsed. Although there is no prospect of resuming production in her workshop, she will continue to work with lacquer here, and while working on the town development of Kuroshima, she will aim to rebuild the Noto Peninsula and solidify her resolve to start a new life. I am. The rich lifestyle of Kuroshima in the past, the beautiful nature, the interaction with people, the passion for lacquer, and the current situation of the disaster area... She is a woman who lives her daily life in the disaster-stricken area and strives for reconstruction, but at the same time, she depicts the true image of Noto as depicted by a woman who deals seriously with lacquer.