Memories of Tanuki Farm: Prologue

— A story of small lives, beginning from the home of the heart —

About twenty years ago, I rented a small field in the mountains.
There was nothing special there.
There was a long-abandoned field, overgrown with grass, and soil.
When the season came, the wind would blow and the rain would fall.
It was just that kind of place.

I don't remember the details of the first day I worked in the field.
However, I do remember that one tanuki came by. (It was quite big)

It suddenly appeared near the field.
"Why did you come?"
I asked the tanuki, but it didn't answer.
Still, its presence remained strangely in my heart.
That's it, I'll call this field "Tanuki Farm"!
It's a bit of a strange name, isn't it?
But I liked that name.

At that time, I was going to the field to grow vegetables.
Tilling the soil, sowing seeds, weeding, and watering.
When the season changed, the next task would begin again.
I was repeating things like that.
In the field, there are many things that don't go as planned.
The grass grows quickly, for one thing. (It's very fast)
If it rains for a long time, the condition of the soil changes.
Just because you sow seeds doesn't mean they will sprout on your schedule.
Even so, I didn't dislike the time I spent touching the soil.
Rather, when I was in the field, the things I usually thought about would slowly, slowly drift away.
Work. Other people. What lies ahead...
As I pulled weeds, touched the soil, and listened to the sound of the wind, the things clogged up in my head would slowly unravel.
It's not that I was taught anything.
Nature doesn't try to tell us anything.
The grass grows, the rain falls, and the seasons change.
Being in the midst of that, I feel like I was slowly returning to my true self.
Thinking about it now, I believe that's what that time was.

I still go to that field today. (Of course)
Even though it's a place I rented about twenty years ago, for some reason I can't leave it.
Every time the season changes, the appearance of the field changes too.
Sometimes the grass is overgrown, and sometimes the soil is dry.
But if I go there, the same old field is there.
And when I stand there, I feel like something returns to me as well.
Tanuki Farm had become more than just a field.
In a place where you have spent a long time, the things you saw, the soil you touched, and even the feel of the wind remain.
I think that remains not only in the place, but also within myself. (Surely)
That's why I come back again.
Even though there is no special reason, my feet head that way.
Such a place might be the home of my heart.

I sometimes remember the one tanuki that came to the field that day.
He probably doesn't remember me anymore.
In the first place, I don't even know if that was an "encounter".
Maybe it's just me who thinks so.
Even so, I still remember its figure.

It was a field I rented to grow vegetables.
But looking back, I feel that it wasn't just vegetables that were growing there.
That I, too, was being grown there little by little.
It took quite a long time for me to realize that.
And the small amount of time that began at Tanuki Farm is connected to the current "Forest of the Circle of Life".
It didn't start from a grand philosophy.
One field and him (the tanuki).
And the time I spent continuing to visit there.
First, I would like to start the story of this forest from those small memories.