#6 [Voices of the Field: Autumn] (5) A Day of Pulling Vines (6) Until It Turns White (5-minute story)

-Synopsis-

This field is a small universe where everyone is in harmony. No one is ever alone. A gentle, slightly bittersweet story smelling of earth, woven by a 75-year-old grandmother and small lives. 👉Click here for the full story synopsis and characters

Episode 5: "A Day of Pulling Vines" October — At the Sweet Potato Ridge

On an October morning, the grandmother woke up earlier than usual.

Today is a special day. Her grandchildren are coming to the field. A third-grade girl, a first-grade girl, and a boy in nursery school. She heard on the phone yesterday that they were looking forward to digging up sweet potatoes.

"I wonder if they'll be happy. I wonder if they'll be able to dig them up well."

The grandmother talked to herself while standing in the kitchen. As she made rice balls, she packed the sweet potato vine kinpira she had made yesterday into a small container. The vine is the part under the sweet potato leaves. It stays above ground, watching over the sweet potatoes in the soil the whole time. Many people throw it away, but when made into kinpira, it is tender and has a texture they have never tasted before.

"It's delicious, though. I wonder if they'll understand."

The children arrived around ten o'clock.

"Grandma!"

The youngest boy ran over and hugged her waist tightly. The grandmother couldn't help but smile.

When she took them to the sweet potato ridge, the children's eyes lit up.

"Where are they?"

"Under the soil. Try pulling the vines and digging a hole."

The third-grade girl grabbed a vine and pulled with all her might. The soil shifted, and a purple sweet potato peeked out.

"Found it!!"

"There's more! There's more!"

One after another, the potatoes came out like a chain. The children's cheers echoed through the field. The first-grade girl was absorbed in digging the soil, and the boy held the dug-up potatoes in both hands, refusing to let go.

A little while later, they found a grasshopper in the grass. The children, who had brought insect cages, chased after it, squealing with excitement. The boy followed desperately, nearly tripping as he ran. The old woman sat down, watching them.

"They've got so much energy."

At noon, everyone sat in the corner of the field and spread out their lunches. There were rice balls, rolled omelets, and stir-fried sweet potato vines.

A third-grade girl took a bite of the stir-fry and tilted her head.

"What is this?"

"It's sweet potato vine. The kind that was in the field earlier."

"Wait, you can eat this?"

"You can. It's delicious, isn't it?"

"It's delicious! What is this? I've never tasted anything like it!"

A first-grade girl tried it too. The boy kept chewing silently, then reached for the container and took some more. In the blink of an eye, the container was empty.

"I want more."

The old woman felt happy.

"Then take some vines home with you when you leave. You can have your parents make some for you."

The children cheered in unison, "Yay!" The boy just smiled broadly and raised both his hands.

As they left, the children headed home with baskets full of sweet potatoes, bundles of vines, and grasshoppers in their insect cages.

"See you later, Grandma!"

The old woman stood there for a while, watching the backs of the children as they waved goodbye.

The field suddenly became quiet.

"It was so lively, wasn't it?"

The old woman whispered softly toward the sweet potato rows.

◆　◆　◆

— In that night's dream —

In the dream, a sweet potato and a sweet potato vine were sitting side by side.

"The children came to see us today, didn't they?" said the sweet potato.

"I was above ground the whole time," said the vine. "Watching over you while you grew in the soil."

"Is that so?"

"But at harvest time, I'm usually just left behind. Many people don't know I'm edible."

"What a waste."

"Today, though, that child said, 'What is this! It's a flavor I've never had before!' That made me so happy."

The old woman felt happy.

"So your flavor really did get through to them."

The sweet potato vine shook its leaves as if embarrassed.

The sweet potato continued.

"Make sure you use all of me, too. The skin, and the ends."

"Of course I will. Using everything without waste is the way of this field."

An autumn breeze blew through the field in the dream.

"Do you think the children will come back next year?"

"They will. They'll definitely come back."

The face of the boy raising his hands and laughing appeared in the dream as well.

The next morning, the grandmother made another pot of kinpira with the remaining sweet potato vines. The aroma of sesame oil filled the kitchen. Eating it with freshly cooked rice, it tasted like autumn.

"Thank you for the meal."

As she pressed her hands together, she felt as if she could still hear the voices of children in the distance.

◆ ◆ ◆

🍠 Making the most of the sweet potato's life
Sweet potato vines are the parts of the vine beneath the leaves. They are rich in calcium, iron, and dietary fiber.
When made into kinpira, they become tender and have a mysterious, delicious flavor.
The sweet potato itself is full of dietary fiber and potassium.
Cooking it with the skin on allows you to get all the nutrients.
The sweet potato vine kinpira recipe is the #1 most popular article in the Kuwatote Kitchen!

Because they get thrown away. I never thought they would be eaten.

To the next story

Episode 6: "Until It Turns White" November — In the Leek Furrows

Her son was scheduled to come help this weekend. This would be the fourth and final hilling of the leeks. The task of piling soil onto many furrows with a heavy shovel had become a bit too challenging for the seventy-five-year-old grandmother.

"If I can get even one furrow done, it'll be a little easier for him."

That morning, the grandmother went out to the field before her son arrived. The November morning was chilly. But the morning sun was shining from the eastern sky, and the soil was gradually warming up.

She picked up the shovel and began covering the base of the leeks with soil. Zaku, zaku, zaku.

Her body began to warm up. A little more, just a little more.

She was halfway through one furrow. About twenty minutes had passed since she started working.

"Ugh..."

A sharp pain shot through her lower back. She crouched down on the spot. When she tried to stand up, it came again. She couldn't move.

She gently set down the shovel and collapsed right there in front of the leek furrow.

"How pathetic..."

Yet, strangely, her heart was calm. The morning sun gradually warmed her back, and the soil was cozy. Even though it was November, the warmth felt as if it were loosening the very core of her body. Before her, the leeks, beginning to turn white, stood silently even though there was no wind.

There was pain. But she wasn't afraid.

"I thought I could do a little more, though."

The old woman muttered softly to the leeks.

◆ ◆ ◆

A while later, her son entered the field.

"Mom, I'm here—"

His voice stopped mid-sentence.

The old woman was sitting on the ground. A shovel lay beside her.

"Mom!"

As he rushed over, the old woman looked up and smiled.

"Oh, you're here. My back just gave out a little."

That smile was actually painful for her son to see.

She had always been healthy. She had handled the farm work and everything around the house all by herself. That was why he had thought she was still fine. He had planned to come help more once he had a little more breathing room. That 'little more' had gone on forever.

"Why... you knew I was coming."

"I thought if I could get even one row done, it might be a little easier for you."

The son couldn't say anything.

He gently supported the old woman's arm and helped her stand up slowly. The old woman winced slightly, but stayed silent. After taking her back to the house and letting her lie down, the son finally spoke.

"Mom, please. Stop using the big shovel from now on."

You're exaggerating. If you just rest a little—

I'm not exaggerating.

The son's voice trembled slightly.

Seeing you sitting on the ground... it scared me. You've always been so energetic, so I thought you were still fine. I finally realized today that I was just being naive.

The grandmother remained silent.

From now on, I'll come more often. I'll come as much as I can.

You have your own work to do, don't you?

I'll come anyway.

The grandmother looked at the ceiling for a while. Then, she said quietly.

...Thank you.

After her son went out to the field, the grandmother closed her eyes. Deep inside her chest, she felt a gentle warmth. It was similar to the warmth of the soil.

Before dusk, her son finished hilling the soil. He returned covered in mud.

I'm done. I might have been clumsy at it, though.

Thank you. You were a big help.

I'll come again next week. I'll make sure to do what's written in the notebook.

The grandmother smiled.

You are so serious, aren't you?

◆ ◆ ◆

— In that night's dream —

Lying down, the old woman drifted into a doze.

In her dream, a green onion spoke to her.

"Your son came to see you today, didn't he?"

"He did. He was angry, but he looked like he was about to cry."

"He's only ever known you as a healthy mother, hasn't he?"

"I suppose so. I've caused him to worry."

The green onion was silent for a while, then spoke quietly.

"Old woman, there is something I want you to hear."

"What is it?"

"It took over half a year since spring to make my white part long. I had soil piled up around me four times, blocking out the light, staying deep in the earth. I was trying to turn white where no one could see me."

"That's right. It was a long time, wasn't it?"

"Isn't your son the same? While working, while writing in his notebook, he was preparing all along. In a place that couldn't be seen, all this time."

The old woman fell silent.

"I think something reached your son today when he saw you sitting on the ground. It must have been the moment when what was hidden from view finally became visible."

"...Perhaps you're right."

The old woman's eyes grew hot.

"I understand. I will accept it all, every last bit."

A quiet wind before winter blew through the field in her dream.

◆ ◆ ◆

Three days later, the grandmother was able to go out to the field again. Looking at the leek rows, she saw the traces of her son having mounded the soil. It was a bit awkward, but the soil was properly covering the base of the leeks.

"Thank you."

The grandmother whispered to the leeks. She didn't know herself if it was for the leeks or for her son.

That night, the grandmother made a gratin using plenty of green leeks. Both the white parts and the green parts, all together. She poured white sauce over them, topped them with melting cheese, and put them in the oven. The delicious aroma of the leeks filled the kitchen, warming her to the core.

"Thank you for the meal."

As she put her hands together, the winter stars were shining outside the window.

◆ ◆ ◆

🌿 Using every bit of the leek's life

The white part is something grown over more than half a year since spring.
It only turns white after being mounded with soil many times to block out the light.
That effort and time are packed into that sweetness and tenderness.

The green part is rich in antioxidants.
Furthermore, the unique slime of the leek is a type of water-soluble dietary fiber and oligosaccharide,
which reaches the intestines and boosts immunity.
In seasons when you are concerned about colds and the flu, it is best to eat the whole thing, including the green parts.

Important things are packed even in places you cannot see.
If there is someone who understands that, then that is enough.

Voices from the Field: Autumn Edition - End

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References:
・Ministry of Education, Culture, Sports, Science and Technology: Food Composition Database
・Ministry of Health, Labour and Welfare: e-Health Net