This Is What Japan Looks Like in Late May
Life in Japan – Issue 027
This Saturday article is part of the “Life in Japan” series.
Unlike the in-depth essays published on Tuesdays, this series focuses on everyday life in Japan, sharing seasonal changes and daily scenes from a more personal and familiar perspective.
The second half of May has arrived, and time seems to be passing so quickly. In Japan, May brings Children’s Day, Koinobori carp streamers, and the first heat that makes summer feel close.
The spring flowers have ended, and the fresh green is growing deeper. The sunlight feels stronger now, and when I walk outside, I can feel summer approaching in my body. Japan stretches a long way from north to south, so the seasons do not arrive in the same way everywhere. Still, by late May, signs of early summer begin to appear in many places. There is moisture in the air before the rainy season, the greenery is still young, and the fields and rice paddies are moving toward their next form.
Among these landscapes, the color of wheat stands out.
In a landscape full of green, a slightly dry yellow begins to appear. When the light touches it, the color can look almost golden. It has a different kind of beauty from cherry blossoms, which draw people together in large numbers. It is also different from autumn leaves, which can color whole mountains. A wheat field turning gold has its own quiet force, belonging only to this short time between spring and early summer. When that color suddenly enters my view from a car window, or from the side of a road as I walk, I feel that the season has shifted.
In Japanese, there is a word called Bakushū（麦秋）. It is written with the characters for “wheat” and “autumn.”
Although the character for autumn is included, this word refers to the early summer period when wheat ripens and moves toward harvest. Rice ripens in autumn. Wheat turns gold in early summer. The soil is prepared in autumn, the seeds are sown, and the wheat grows through winter. In spring, the stalks rise and the ears appear. Around May and June, the harvest season arrives. In a field of ripened wheat, the time from winter to early summer is gathered into one color.
Wheat fields in Japan are heavily concentrated in Hokkaido. Hokkaido also has the largest planted area for wheat, while Fukuoka and Saga are also major producing regions. Hokkaido in the north, and Kyushu closer to the south. It feels a little mysterious, and interesting, that wheat is grown in regions with such different climates.
There is more than one kind of wheat or barley. There is wheat, barley, naked barley, and other types, each used in different ways. Wheat is used for bread and noodles, while barley is used for beer and barley tea. In particular, two-row barley used for beer is grown in large quantities in Tochigi and Saga.
The wheat field I photographed this time is in Saga. Since Saga is one of the major producing regions for two-row barley, this field may be growing a type used as an ingredient for beer.
If you visit Japan, please try draft beer here. Beer served in an ice-cold glass is very good.
Around the same time, water begins to enter the rice paddies.
Rice paddies show a completely different expression from wheat fields. While wheat moves toward a dry golden color, the paddies hold water and reflect the sky. In fields where rice planting has just finished, thin seedlings stand in rows in the water. The green is still small, and the landscape is only beginning to grow.
At this point, the surface of the water is more visible than the rice plants. But in summer, the paddies will be filled with blue-green rice. When the wind blows, the seedlings will move. Soon the rice plants will grow taller, and by autumn the heads of rice will begin to bend. Until harvest, the paddies will show a different face almost every week. Watching that change is one of the pleasures of this season.
When water enters the paddies, the sounds around them also change a little. In the evening, the color of the sky falls onto the water, and in some places, frogs begin to call. The wheat fields hold the dry light of daytime. The rice paddies reflect the season through water. Side by side, they show two different moments of early summer: ripening and beginning.
One of the sights that belongs to this time of year is fireflies.
In southern regions, firefly events are beginning around this week. As June arrives, the best viewing season spreads to Kansai, Chūbu, and areas at higher elevations. Fireflies live in many regions around the world, but in Japan, they have long been loved as a seasonal sign of early summer nights, watersides, rice fields, and rural landscapes.
For readers overseas, it may feel a little curious that people go out to the water to see fireflies, and that viewing events and festivals are held for them. In Japan, people have long valued seasonal sights that can only be seen for a short time. Cherry blossoms, autumn leaves, snow scenes, and the glow of fireflies. People go to see them because their time is brief. This is one way Japan enjoys the seasons.
Fireflies have also appeared in Japanese literature and art for centuries. In famous old works such as Makura no Sōshi（枕草子, The Pillow Book）and Genji Monogatari（源氏物語, The Tale of Genji）, we can find scenes connected with fireflies. Their brief glow, summer nights, and the movements of the human heart have long been linked in the Japanese imagination. Fireflies have been seen not only as glowing insects, but also as beings that carry the feeling of passing seasons and human emotion.
In the Edo period, going out to see fireflies, called Hotaru-gari（蛍狩り）, became a summer pleasure. Ukiyo-e also preserved scenes of women in yukata and children watching or chasing fireflies. Going out to the waterside on a summer night and waiting for small lights was a seasonal pleasure for people in the past as well.
Modern firefly viewing has changed somewhat from the Hotaru-gari of the past. Today, it is important to see fireflies in their place and protect the environment that allows them to return. Firefly viewing events and festivals continue in the same places each year because those places still have the conditions fireflies need.
In particular, Genji-botaru（ゲンジボタル）spend their larval stage in clean flowing water and grow by eating small freshwater snails called Kawanina（カワニナ）. They need flowing water, aquatic plants, and a river where Kawanina can live. They also need grassy or earthen banks, and fewer strong artificial lights. Behind the glow of fireflies, there are waterside conditions and the care of local people.
That is why, in well-known firefly areas, people continue to clean rivers and waterways, manage grassy areas, and encourage proper viewing manners. Going to see fireflies is a chance to witness a beautiful early-summer scene, and also to encounter a waterside that has been carefully maintained.
The season that appears in daytime through wheat fields and rice paddies takes another form at night. After the sun sets, people gather by the water and wait for small lights. Firefly viewing belongs to this brief season. It remains in literature and art, is protected by local communities, and is passed down each year as a seasonal pleasure.
One of the well-known firefly events in Japan is the Shinshū Tatsuno Hotaru Matsuri（信州辰野ほたる祭り）in Tatsuno Town, Nagano Prefecture.
Tatsuno calls itself “Japan’s No. 1 firefly village,” and the festival will mark its 78th year in 2026. It is held in early to mid-June, when fireflies are at their best, and many people visit during the festival period. The number of visitors is said to reach around 100,000.
Behind this well-known festival is a long history of local effort. There was once a time when the number of fireflies dropped sharply, and water pollution brought them close to a critical situation. Since then, local people have continued cleaning and conservation work, leading to the firefly scenery seen today. The festival is not only a chance to see beautiful light. It is also a reminder that this annual sight depends on the care of the place itself.
Another firefly event that caught my attention this year is the Haha River Firefly Festival（母川ほたるまつり）in Kaiyō Town, Tokushima Prefecture.
In 2026, it is scheduled to be held around the Haha River from June 6 to 13. During the festival period, Takasebune（高瀬舟）boats operate, allowing visitors to view fireflies from the river.
The evening wind carries moisture. The surface of the rice paddies reflects the sky. The color of the wheat deepens day by day. At night, people wait by the water for small lights. Each of these scenes belongs to Japan in late May, as the country moves toward summer.
After seeing the wheat fields turning gold, I look at the water in the rice paddies and think of the firefly nights ahead. After the season of spring flowers and before the full strength of midsummer, there is a short period of early summer. This year, I am feeling that season through the color of wheat and the glow by the water.
At Spiritual Japan Journal, I will continue to visit and write about Japan not only as a travel destination, but as a place where daily scenery changes with the seasons, and where culture remains in people’s lives. If there are places, events, or aspects of Japanese culture you would like SJJ to cover in the future, please let me know in the comments.
A paid subscription helps make this fieldwork and writing possible. It allows SJJ to keep visiting shrines, temples, festivals, seasonal landscapes, and the small scenes of everyday life across Japan, and to share them with care. Your support helps me continue going out to see these places and tell their stories thoughtfully.
—Written by Sumire
I assume it's the same in Saga, here in Izumo we have the odd sight at this time of year of the rice being planted in one field and the barley/wheat being harvested in the next
https://lessknownjapan.substack.com/p/ta-ue-tanbo-and-tanada-and?r=7yrqz
This is a beautiful essay on one of my two favorite seasons.
Bakushū is also the title of one of Ozu Yasujiro's best movies.