Water we doing

Ni: Spring a leak

solar term: 雨水 / usui / rain water

sunrise: 6:23・sunset: 17:26・moon phase: two days old・next full moon: mar 3・invisible appulse: moon and mercury, 7:18・visible conjunction: moon and mercury, 17:53・high: 10・low: 2・feels: sunny, dry, gusty

in season: tulips, freesias, peach blossoms, oranges, mandarins, kumquats, apples, strawberries, lotus root, spinach, mushrooms, bánh chưng, pork five ways, cheese all day, stamps, slippers, eye drops, podcasts, memes, dry facts, wet predictions, receipts, thrifts and fleas, exercise bands, cleaning spray, little dirty towels, money (giving), money (receiving), money (hoping), fortunes, incense, nephews, horsing around, the big clean

gardening tips: if it looks sad, act fast

recommended listening: iphone ringtone “little bird” (settings > sounds and haptics > ringtone > little bird. also here)

best day for a haircut: before or after feb 17

last chance to see: “crafts and the weather” at the national crafts museum in kanazawa

predictions (short term): the daylight will stretch along the carpet and lengthen by the hours, skin and hair will limp along until spring, buds will become swollen with pollen and promise, our leaders will be ever more emboldened, we will continue to expect a near-constant around-the-clock stream of spectacle, something will happen that is unfathomable, unpredictable, and unforgivable and then will become normal, possibly forgotten, by the following week

predictions (long term): if and when the AI bubble bursts, the rich will still get richer. you will be confounded by the worth of a life and by the system that protects yours. there will be more beauty, more questions, and more seeking, and then it will be winter again

This time of year means Keats, tight fists of pre-spring, the loosening of window latches, the big clean, the big thaw.

Winter in Tokyo is warm outside and cold inside, and there is a lot of sun. In my apartment, it’s sunny enough that all the tulips crane toward the window, and the air is so dry my eyelids click open in the morning.

In the Chinese calendar of solar terms, sometimes called micro-seasons, Feb. 19 is 雨水, rain water, though there’s none in sight. As the old system predicts, this is the time of year that rain, not snow, starts falling from the sky; frozen rivers and mountain snow melt; rice fields shine like mirrors; the earth becomes wet.

In Kanazawa over the weekend, though, oh did we sloosh. At sunrise on Saturday morning, our legs and feet thick and dry as drumsticks, we waddled off the bus we’d boarded in Shinjuku the night before and into the snow-covered city. We stomped and slipped, slushed and sloshed, on our way to and from museums and restaurants and shops, stopping to inspect the various formations of 雪吊り, conical rope configurations that protect trees and bushes from heavy snow and make everything look like an art installation.

Kanazawa gets a lot of snow — 1.5 meters in January — but when we arrived it was warm, and underneath the white covering the roofs and streets ran internal rivers. Water rushed from above, flying down the rain chains connected to rooftop gutters, and at our feet, piles of white leaked into the drains in the pavement. It didn’t rain all weekend, but everything was nonetheless wet, like the streets were making their own weather. And all around the city we could hear the dynamic, unmistakable sound of winter coming to an end.