“Yiddish can describe defects of character with the precision that Inuit describes ice or Japanese rain.”
I just happened upon this sentence today in Rebecca Solnit’s A Field Guide to Getting Lost. Perfect timing, since June is the season of the “monsoon” in Japan. In a country where poetry has always been firmly tied to nature and to the unfolding of “now” in the shared world around us, it is not surprising that there are as many words for rain as there are for the spring flowers, the autumn winds, or the sounds of insects singing.
The rainy season in Japan is known as 梅雨 – Tsuyu. The Plum rains. Is this because the rains arrive just when people are harvesting the plums or is it because the rains are so heavy they knock the ripened fruit right off the branches? In classical poetry, the monsoon rains of early summer were more commonly known as 五月雨 さみだれ samidare. The “rains of the fifth month” coincide with June in the modern calendar. There are countless poems of Heian court ladies gazing out at the rains of May (now June) dreaming of their lovers.
My puppy’s book on “rain names” above is divided by season. For summer, there are so many poetic words and phrases much used in haiku poetry such as,
緑雨 りょくう ryokuu Early-summer rains (or the rains of summer greenery)
青葉雨 あおばあめ aoba-ame Rains of the green foliage
一発雨 いいぱつあめ ippatsu ame A sudden rain shower
卯の花腐し うのはなくだし The rains when the deutzia blossoms rot. These rains occur between the spring rains 春雨 and the plum rains 梅雨 and gets their name because the rain arrives around the time when the deutzia flowers scatter (rot)
狐雨 きつねあめ kitsune-ame FOX Rains (For Sally) Like ippatsu-ame, the fox rains are sudden rains which appear as if out of nowhere. In traditional folklore, evil spirits disguise themselves as foxes in order to trick or bewitch unsuspecting people. As such, ostensibly unexplainable phenomena are sometimes colloquially attributed to foxes. Knowing this, an effective translator is able to accurately translate kitsune ame as “rain that seemingly comes from nowhere”, or the trick of a fox spirit. (See this post) And here is the wikipedia page for the kitsune no yomeiri The Fox’s Wedding legend.
These are just a few that appear on the first few pages of summer.
I have a vivid memory of my son, when he was quite small, going out on an errand with his papa during the rainy season. He had on his rain gear: slicker, runner boots and a huge yellow umbrella… stepping out into the deluge, he turned around and beamed at me! Oh, that feeling when the skies open up and it pours down. After days of increasing humidity—nothing can describe the freshness and wonder of the plum rains.
Finally, the famous print Shōno, hakuu 庄野 白雨, from the series Tōkaidō gojūsan tsugi no uchi 東海道五十三次之内
"White Rain at Shōno" is the forty-sixth print in the series "Fifty-three Stations of the Tōkaidō." One of the best known of Hiroshige's prints, this image not only illustrates a place along the road that connected Edo to Kyoto, but also demonstrates the artist's exceptional ability to render the sunlit summer shower.
I started following a water colorist on Instagram because his rendering of rain and light took my breath away. Kazuo Kasai from Japan .
It's lovely just saying "the plum rains".