The life nestled between the sea and mountains

Driving along the coastline of Karatsu, the summer sea is a brilliant blue. Sunlight glints off the surface, making the water sparkle.

When I step onto the beach, I see stones, smoothed by the waves, scattered along the shore. The sea, which looked so blue from a distance, is surprisingly clear up close.

This sea is home to fish of all sizes. Shells cling to the rocks, while others lie hidden in the sand.

Karatsu, where we live, is right next to this sea.

But life in Karatsu cannot be described by the sea alone.

Just a short drive from the sea, the scenery changes to mountains and fields.

In the mountains, people grow seasonal fruits and vegetables.

For example, the eggplants grown deep in the mountains of Nanayama are firm, with soft, delicate flesh.

The bell peppers, which have become increasingly popular in recent years, are beautifully colored and full of juice.

In Japan, the rainy season brings a great deal of rain.

The rainwater is absorbed by the mountains, becomes spring water, and eventually flows into the rivers.

In the mountains, people use this river water to cultivate their fields, growing rice and vegetables.

Just before the rainy season begins, the rice paddies are filled with water, and preparations for planting begin.

At dusk, the fields bathed in the light of the setting sun become especially beautiful.

In summer, the young rice plants grow lush and green, covering the paddies.

As autumn approaches, the rice gradually turns golden, and the ears of rice begin to hang heavy.

People begin to look forward to the new rice, wondering when the harvest will begin.

The timing of the rice harvest varies from one region to another.

And the taste of new rice also changes depending on the region and the time of harvest.

Rice cultivation in Karatsu is said to have begun more than 2,000 years ago.

One day, I suddenly noticed a connection between the Japanese words kome, meaning rice, and komeru, meaning to put something into something—to put one’s feelings into it.

Rice has long been offered to the gods.

Perhaps that is why rice has come to hold such an important place in our lives.

I sometimes wonder if, in offering rice to the gods of nature, people were also placing their hopes and gratitude into it.

Rice is not only something we eat.

It is also used to make koji, sake, miso, and soy sauce.

These foods are an essential part of Japanese cuisine.

Even today, rice is offered at festivals and Shinto rituals.

And it is the earth that nurtures this rice, as well as the vegetables that grow in the fields.

The blessings of the mountain soil and water flow through the rivers to the sea.

They also contribute to the richness of the sea.

To me, the Japanese word umi, meaning sea, also resonates with umi, meaning to give birth.

We were born and raised here.

And within this land, many of the things essential to our daily lives have also been born: foods, crafts, tools, and ways of living.

Within the great workings of nature, the sea, the mountains, and our lives are all connected.

And the work of the people who live here continues, even today.

I believe this is what “Ubusuna” means.