It is thought that the twenty-four solar terms (節気) of the ancient Chinese calendar were codified as early as during the Warring States period (475–221 BC). Kind of amazing to realize that these terms have come down to modern times --through time and space (place)-- unchanged.
Each of the solar terms lasts about 15 days. And for further precision, they are divided into 3 sections of about 5 days each.
These "micro-seasons" became known in Japan as the 72 kō (72候).
Originally the word “kō” in Japanese meant “to go out to meet someone,” and in time came to signify “looking forward to” or “expecting something.”
Perhaps this says something about the way the ancient Japanese saw the turning of the seasons-- as something to anticipate, like the cherry blossoms of spring!
But anyway, like the 24 sekki, the 72 kō also have their origin in classical poetry and are thought to express the finer nuances of the changing of the seasons captured in short, 5-day intervals.
But again, this was the seasons as expressed around the Yellow River in China.
Unlike the 24 sekki, though, in time the Japanese developed their own terms which were more demonstrative of what was actually happening seasonally in Japan-- though this wouldn’t happen until 1685, over 800 years after the Taien-reki Tang Dynasty calendar was first introduced.
It's interesting to take a look at what kinds of changes were made in "translated" Chinese seasons into Japanese ones.
The most striking feature one finds in the Chinese calendar is the dominant place the sighting of birds plays. Out of the 72 kō, 23 had bird-related names, making it the largest grouping of seasonal names in the Chinese calendar, pointing to the particularly special place birds had in the hearts of the ancient Chinese. Bird-related names was followed by 19 names related to the weather (such as the wind or thunderstorms), while plants, insects and animals were represented by 13, 9 and 6 names respectively. There were only two fish-related seasonal names in the Chinese calendar.
Not surprisingly, it is plants and flowers, rather than birds, which are most conspicuous in the later Japanese-adapted calendar, with 27 associated seasonal names. Still, birds far outnumber animals, insects and fish making it the third largest grouping.
In Tochigi, I always wanted to make my own seasonal calendar--my own 72 kō.
In Westlake too. I even started one in Westlake revolving around the changes and moods of the lake.
So, I was so delighted (and not at surprised) to find that Liza Dalby, in our memoir East Wind Melts Ice had done just that.
In the back of the book, she has a chart--just like my Japanese almanacs have-- listing the 72 kō by:
"Ancient Chinese" "17th Century Japan" and "Modern Japan"
To this, she add a new one:
"Northern California"
I love it!
For the time of Cold Cicada Chirps (which appears a week earlier in the 17th century Japanese calendar), she lists the modern Japanese season as "Crepe Myrtle Blooms."
Right now in Pasadena, the crepe myrtle is blooming like crazy--deep pinks and magentas! It makes me so happy to feel the overlap.
According to Dalby, in Berkeley it is the time of "Crickets Crying."
Tentatively, if I was going to designate this time in Pasadena, I would probably go with the crepe myrtle blooming. Except that the gingko trees are fruiting! I have never seen this before. Turning a deep green, the leaves are glowing in the mid-summer sun. But now they are fruiting? My sister didn't think people were planting the females anymore because of the stench--like a durian?-- so she suspects the tree in question changed sex.
Michael asked me if I am going to collect the nuts--a great delicacy in Japan (one of my favorite foods that I have made here in Pasadena is chawan mushi).
Michael is a great forger and collector. I guess I am too timid for that (afraid of pesticides). But I am watching those babies grow really heavy! I've never seen fruit this big actually... even in Japan.
If it happens again next year, I think I will designate this the time of gingko fruiting. Leaves light up like sycamores in the sun.
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Laura sends this for citizens scientists to help count the leaves!
NYTimes:The Female Ginkgo Tree’s Acrid Smell of Success