* This essay column is written by a longtime foreign resident of Japan.

John Steinbeck wrote: "Men do change, and change comes like a little wind that ruffles the curtains at dawn, and it comes like the stealthy perfume of wildflowers hidden in the grass."

Villages undergo changes, but some of these can hit like a typhoon that demolishes buildings and rips up grassy fields.

I have witnessed many changes over the years in Doshi Village, Yamanashi Prefecture, where I have lived with my family since 1991. Back in 1985, when we bought property here, the main road lacked street lighting. But the outside light by the front door of our cottage used to attract clouds of moths, and a pair of squirrels came onto the veranda for food. It has been years since I last saw a squirrel on our property -- excluding flying squirrels -- and most of the moths have gone.

Lengths of Route 413, which links Tsukui in Kanagawa Prefecture and Lake Yamanaka in Yamanashi Prefecture via Doshi, were unpaved in the "old days." And what is now a roadside convenience store was a family-run shop with the sales area connected to the house's living room. Sometimes in the evening the sole shop assistant would be fast asleep in front of the TV, necessitating some discreet coughing or other noise-making to get served.

The rice fields came right up to the premises then and in spring young frogs took some of their first terrestrial hops on the concrete floor of the shop. Nowadays the paddies have been pushed back by the spacious parking lot and inside it's all spotless floor tiles and antiseptic, standardized greetings from the uniformed staff.

Route 413 once passed through an avenue of cherry trees in Kawamura, where we live. Over the years, however, a sidewalk was built in annual increments toward the elementary school. This necessitated the construction of a high concrete wall to support the walkway, resulting in all but a handful of the trees being felled.

Ironically, the sidewalk was only one winter's worth of work away from reaching the local elementary school -- the pupils' welfare being the excuse for building it -- when the school was shut down. The pavement ends rather abruptly at a barrier, but at least a few trees were spared.

This pathway is rarely used as the villagers are not inclined to walk anywhere if they have a vehicle handy. On one PTA bus trip to a Tokyo aquarium I was surprised when the local guy in charge of the proceedings apologized to the passengers because they'd have to walk quite far around the premises to see the exhibits. I initially thought he was joking, but soon realized he was serious.

When I take my Labrador, Alice, for its daily walks my usual course passes 10 besso. Estimates vary, but there are said to be between 400 and 500 of these buildings in the village, with the number of newcomers reputed to equal that of the villagers. While I'd take the latter claim with a pinch of salt, there is no doubt that these buildings are a blot on the landscape.

I'm not keen on the concrete walls that contain most of the Doshi River and the streams leading into it. Like some of the vacation homes, these look unsightly and restrict access to the water. And, unlike natural grassy or bushy bankings, the concrete channels are sterile deserts for wildlife.

But even this stick-in-the-mud conservative has to admit to enjoying some of the changes. For example, the elementary school pupils I taught English to are now adults with driver's licenses and jobs or have gone on to higher education. And when all's said and done, it's a pleasure to live and rear children in Doshi, where a lot of the surroundings remain unspoiled, where one is in tune with the ever-changing symphony of the seasons, the water and vegetables are fresh, and flavorsome, plus the air has a tang of trees -- or wildflowers.

If you have any comments please e-mail me at jtweekly@japantimes.co.jp

The Japan Times Weekly: Nov. 8, 2003
(C) All rights reserved