Lesser Heat, Thinking of the Bridge of Love | My Twenty-Four Solar Terms

Today is Shousho, the Lesser Heat.

In the twenty-four solar terms, it is the season that follows the Summer Solstice.

The twenty-four solar terms divide the year into twenty-four parts to represent the changing of the seasons.
People of the past observed the movements of the sun and changes in the air, sensing the spring, summer, autumn, and winter in even greater detail.

Shousho is written, literally, as "small heat."
However, from here on, the heat becomes truly intense.

While still retaining a bit of the dampness of the rainy season,
beyond the sky, summer is leaning forward, ready to arrive.

It is the threshold of such a season.

And today is also Tanabata, the Star Festival.

I wonder if Orihime and Hikoboshi were able to meet again this year.

On the night of Tanabata, birds form a bridge across the Milky Way.
They are called "kasasagi," written with the characters for "magpie."

The bridge of magpies.

What a beautiful phrase that is.

The birds line up their wings to build a bridge in the sky.
Crossing that bridge, they go to the person they long to see, just once a year.

It is such a simple story, yet
why does it make my heart ache so much?

In modern times, "kasasagi" is often used to refer to the Eurasian magpie, a member of the crow family.
However, there is a theory that the "kasasagi" of old referred to what we now call the grey heron.

Words are mysterious things.

Even if they are called by the same name,
as the times change, the appearance of the bird standing there changes too.

Since learning of that theory, the bridge of Tanabata has begun to look a little different to me.

A grey heron standing gracefully by the water's edge.
A bird that stands quietly on thin legs, yet is surprisingly large when it spreads its wings.

The grey heron is said to be the largest of the herons found in Japan.

If the grey herons were to gather at the Milky Way,
and one by one, they spread their wings...

It will surely be a very magnificent bridge.

Ash-blue wings overlap with the night sky, creating a soft path above the river of stars.

The bridge of magpies. Or perhaps, the bridge of herons.

When I imagine the figures of birds spreading their great wings beyond the words of old, it looks to me like a bridge of love.

There are nights that cannot be crossed by the desire to meet alone.

No matter how much one wishes, there are places that cannot be reached by one's own strength alone.

Perhaps that is why a bridge is necessary.

Someone's wings. Someone's prayers. Words that someone gently offered.

I feel that there are such bridges in our own days as well.

When remembering someone far away. When trying to put into words the feelings I couldn't express well before. When, in the time we cannot meet, I still do not let go of the heart that cherishes them.

Even if invisible to the eye, a small bridge is arched there.

The sky of Lesser Heat already wears the face of summer. The heat will only increase from here on.

It is becoming a season where the sunlight and the humidity take a toll on the body.

Even so, on the night of Tanabata, I want to pause for a moment and think of the bridge above the sky.

Are the magpies spreading their wings again tonight? Are the herons gently building a path across the river of stars?

Have the Weaver Girl and the Cowherd met safely?

I, too, want to build small bridges one by one—to the person I want to see, to the words I want to deliver, and to the tomorrow I have yet to see.

I want to build small bridges, one by one.

Sincerely, Yuki

#MyTwentyFourSolarTerms

I am happy to be able to participate for the first time in a while.
Hashi-san, I look forward to working with you.