January 15, 2026
Nagano-ken (deep in the valley, where the phone signal goes to die) winter – inaka no seikatsu
People romanticize inaka no seikatsu —the thatched roofs, the steaming onsen, the silent rice fields. And sure, those things exist. But right now, my reality is a kerosene heater, a pile of daikon threatening to take over my genkan, and the art of chipping ice out of the garden hose. January 15, 2026 Nagano-ken (deep in the valley,
Stay warm, friends. And for the love of all that is holy, don’t leave the shōyu (soy sauce) in the unheated shed. It turns into a salty brick. Stay warm, friends
This week, I’m pickling nozawana (local greens) in a giant plastic tub. Next week, if the snow holds, I’ll snowshoe up to the abandoned shrine behind the cedar forest. The kamoshika (Japanese serow) have been leaving hoof prints near the frozen waterfall.
That truck sound is important. In the inaka, we rely on gōyū (neighborly cooperation). When the snowplow buries your driveway for the third time, it’s not the city that saves you—it’s the 70-year-old farmer next door with a rotary plow and a thermos of warm sake .