North of Tokyo, near Mt. Tsukuba. An old-fashioned farmhouse with a thatched roof still sits here, home to a young couple and their 2 children. Thatched roofs are eco-friendly, and a symbol of Japan's traditional farming communities. Under their roof, the Yamada family enjoy the slow life in harmony with nature. They've fostered a mutual aid network who gather for each season's farming milestones and celebrate their successes. The Yamadas' "thatched living" is at once familiar and new.
80 kilometers northeast of Tokyo, at the foot of Mt. Tsukuba, we find a home with a thatched roof, an uncommon sight these days.
This is the story of the people who live here, a life that is old-fashioned, but also forward-looking.
The family has two sisters.
Dependable Hana is a great big sister.
That's washed. Take it to Mom
and say, 'Here you are.' Little Kaya enjoys being the baby of the family.
Here's their Dad: Yamada Kotaro.
Six years ago, he left his corporate job and moved here with his family to take up organic farming.
And here's their Mom, Maiko.
She was in full agreement with the plan to raise the girls in the countryside.
And there's the family dog, Hikari.
All four of them work together, living off the farm and having fun doing it.
This area has a long New Year's tradition of making red and white mochi to decorate the tree branches.
The local farmers scolded me
for not making decorations.
So I'm fixing that!
If the family ever has questions, they start by asking their neighbors.
- Happy New Year.
- And to you.
I use coloring for the red?
Mix it in a bowl and
then make little balls.
I stopped after my husband died.
Are you the last generation
that does it?
Other folks stopped, but he made
such a fuss about doing it.
The family begins making mochi.
First, they steam rice they harvested themselves, and pound it in a large mortar.
Whatever the task, they savor it together.
Dad pounds the dough while Mom and the girls turn it.
All done!
Hana and Kaya both love freshly made mochi.
Next, they make the red mochi.
Kotaro has decided to make use of red rice they grew themselves.
I wanna do it with Dad!
Ready, go!
Ready, go!
Can you manage, Hana?
Go for it! And, go.
Kotaro decided to use red rice rather than food dye - a natural color.
The mochi balls are added to the branches.
These festive decorations are said to represent silkworm cocoons.
Why is it pink mochi?
Because red and white
are lucky colors.
The family completes the traditional decorations.
That hot water was to wash the mortar, Kaya, not for you to have a bath!
This has been the traditional life and landscape for generations of Japanese farmers.
A new family inherits this legacy as they take up thatched living.
The heart of an old thatched home is the irori hearth.
The family listens to the crackling logs as they wait for dinner.
Daikon radish, carrots, and
napa cabbage. That's it.
And miso!
Wood collected from the forest is added to the fire as organic vegetables from their fields bubble away.
A little homemade miso is added to the pot.
Thank you for this meal!
Thank you, Dad. Thank you, Mom.
Thank you, Hana. Thank you, Kaya.
Thank you, Hikari.Thank you.
Thank you, everyone.
Let's eat!
Thatched homes have high ceilings, which means air has room to circulate, staying fresh even when the fire is lit.
This house was built about a hundred years ago for a silkworm farmer.
The roof is thatched with bundles of kaya, a variety of grasses that provide excellent insulation and ventilation.
Since the thatching can be recycled, it's also an eco-friendly building material that is gaining more attention these days.
The Yamada family's thatching was last changed out over 20 years ago.
The northern side, which gets little sunlight, is covered in moss.
This could lead to problems with leaks.
Worried about his children, Kotaro has wanted to rethatch the roof for some time now.
They've been making preparations for over a year.
Today the whole family is out to gather grasses for the new roof.
Hide and seek!
In this area, Japanese pampas grass is one variety of kaya that's widely used in thatching.
Kaya was also used to make ropes and other everyday items; it was a vital resource for farming communities.
But today, it's hard to find space to harvest it.
We're by the mountains here.
There are wild boars.
No room for a tractor.
It was a bad place to grow rice,
so it was abandoned.
But it's just right
for pampas grass.
Daddy!
Ready?
All done.
By working together, they have gradually gathered enough material for a new roof.
The Yamadas live in Yasato, an area that has been struggling to find people to take over the farmland.
Kotaro was able to rent close to six acres at a low price.
It's time to plant the rice seedlings in the fields.
A large group has gathered.
Thanks for coming today.
This is our fifth planting
since we came.
You've been so good to us every
year. We're very grateful.
Thank you for joining us again.
Mr. Shimada helped with all the
seedlings we're planting today.
He also cut all the grass
around the edges.
Thank you very much.
Suzuna is in Hana's year.
Our youngest is Taisei.
We're the Totsukas. Miteki,
and Misuzu. Hi, everyone.
Hana is in first grade.
This is Emika.
Our third is due in November.
My youngest is in Kaya's class.
Hi, folks!
I'm Nakajima,
from Uwaso nearby.
I've known the Yamadas
since they were students.
I'm from Vietnam.
We went to Ibaraki's College of
Agriculture. So did Tran.
So we dragged her into this!
Most of the group are parents from Hana and Kaya's nursery school.
None of them are farmers.
But they come every year so the children can try their hand at planting rice.
Next one!
Children and parents line up in a row and plant a seedling.
A scene like this has become a rare sight in Japan's rural villages.
Hana has grown up in these fields since she was a baby.
She's already a veteran...
Other children decide to enjoy the water once they get in.
Kotaro's rice paddies use no agrochemicals whatsoever, so parents can rest easy.
They could do all of this
without me!
Next one!
Kotaro has rice paddies in nine different places, but thanks to his network of friends it takes only four days to plant them all.
After the planting comes something fun...
The fathers take turns pounding mochi.
Go for it, Dad!
It used to be normal for farming families to help each other out with big tasks.
It's a lot harder to make that happen today.
Kotaro has spent six years building this new network.
Lots in here. Garlic, potato,
zucchini, daikon radish.
Wow.
Naturally, all of the ingredients are freshly harvested from Kotaro's fields.
The dayflowers' petals gleam in the rain.
But they're blossoming on the old, moss-covered thatch.
The threat of leaks is very real.
Kotaro starts final preparations.
Today, an important guest will be coming.
This is their guest: Mitarai Takayuki.
He's one of only 200 or so thatchers left in Japan.
One of Japan's top thatchers
lives out in Aizu.
Told me Mitarai had potential,
so I introduced them.
That's not what I heard.
'You'll need my extra coaching!' We moved here in 2016.
Took up farming as well.
I asked for a house with
a storehouse as well.
They suggested this place.
A big decision.
It was already coming loose
in places back then.
Thatch will always rot.
You have to keep taking care
of the bad patches.
It's time to rethatch.
But we could replace part of it.
That will give you another
5-10 years.
For financial reasons, they decide to do a partial replacement of the thatch.
They'll start the work next February.
Kotaro heads out to harvest the summer vegetables.
He does this twice a week, covering vegetable patches in 13 different places.
He doesn't use any agrichemicals or chemical fertilizer.
So naturally there are weeds growing alongside crops.
I'm not sure what to pick.
Our fields are scattered all over.
This one drains badly.
The soil is very wet.
Water spinach likes rice-paddy
soil, so we planted it here.
The sun rises above the mountains.
Kotaro grows around fifty varieties of vegetables each year.
The star of this season is ripe tomatoes.
But relying on the power of nature alone means some fruit is lost to pests.
He carefully harvests the remaining tomatoes one by one.
He returns home after 8.
This large open space used to house people and silkworms.
It's a perfect setting for sorting vegetables.
So many tomatoes!
Once the tobacco budworms are out,
we can't harvest for a month.
We have lots of spiderwebs in
our tomato house this year.
The budworms get caught
in the webs.
And the spiders eat them up.
It's a huge help.
Tomatoes are always
a crowd pleaser, after all.
I'm glad we can pack so many up.
They pack the fresh vegetables and sell them as a delivery service.
This work keeps the Yamada family books balanced.
Around 70 households in surrounding regions look forward to their weekly boxes.
Kotaro and Maiko always add a handwritten letter.
It's called the "Gashappa Newsletter".
"July 26th.
Our fields don't use chemicals, so they house lots of bugs for swallows to eat.
The local swallows are delighted.
We hope they'll build up their strength here before migrating to south-east Asia."
"The tomatoes are great raw but their flavor is amazing when cooked.
Try frying some with eggplant - it's good!"
The Gashappa Newsletter keeps them connected to their customers.
After 6PM they fetch the children from nursery school and prepare dinner.
Hana helps cook.
This is just what Maiko did as a child.
That's good, that's good.
I always followed my mom
around in the kitchen.
Mom always said
the key is farming.
She is a huge influence
in my lifestyle today.
Maiko was raised at the foot of Mt. Fuji.
Her family wasn't a farming family, but her mother was a passionate gardener.
Maiko studied organic farming at Ibaraki's College of Agriculture.
Kotaro loved bugs and animals from childhood, so he also chose an agricultural college.
It's where the couple met.
They fell for each other quickly and married after graduating.
Kotaro took a position as a cameraman for a newspaper, but left the job to spend more time in nature.
I think about myself
in 30 or 40 years' time.
And I want the me of the future
to be self-sufficient.
I do think that's something
very important.
Farming is a way to
make that a reality.
They moved to this area six years ago to take up organic farming.
Here it is.
Today's menu features handmade udon noodles, grilled eggplant, and summer vegetable tempura.
Ready?
Thank you for our meal!
Thank you, Dad. Thank you, Mom.
Thank you, Hana. Thank you, Kaya.
Thank you, Hikari. Thank you.
Thank you, everyone.
Let's eat!
We've been living in
a thatched home a while.
It can be a lot of work.
But it feels really worth it.
I want my kids to feel
connected to this path.
Growing up in the natural world, playing, and learning from it.
This is Kotaro and Maiko's hope for their children.
Summer.
The fields are a sea of green.
The rice is growing well.
"August 22nd.
Our rice paddies grow rice but they're also a wonderland of insects.
Everyone returns to childhood when they visit one."
Got it!
Giant water bug.
Now that's something you won't find in a city!
Ferocious water bug.
It's carrying eggs.
I love this more than farming.
I'm pretty much farming
for the sake of these bugs.
By September, the fields have turned red.
The red-rice plants are in blossom.
Red rice is also known as 'ancient rice'.
It's a resilient variety that's resistant to pests and climate change.
It's done extremely well this year.
It's not often we get a
great harvest like this.
It's the ideal for our way of farming.
Kotaro's vision of farming involves little human intervention, with nature doing the heavy lifting.
October.
Typhoons have brought a lot of heavy rain.
Strong winds and large raindrops batter the rice plants.
Kotaro heads out, worried about the plants.
Rice at the edges has
fallen to the rain.
The stalks were too heavy.
Despite the weather, he spends the day visiting each rice field.
"October 23rd.
Our red rice made it through and stands heavy with the harvest.
Hana and Kaya are delighted."
I'm a bit taller.
Though the leaves are very big.
But I'm taller than the rice!
At long last, it's time to harvest the red rice.
This variety matures later and is harvested nearly a month after the regular rice.
The group who helped plant the rice has returned.
Tran from Vietnam is among them.
I've been doing this since
childhood. It's nostalgic.
Kids and crops are alike.
They grow on their own.
They manage themselves
with the help of nature.
It's wonderful to watch them grow
around all these people.
It makes me very happy.
The New Year arrives.
January 21st.
There's more snow than usual this year.
When we sent out our vegetables, there was over 10 centimeters on the ground.
We had to part the snow with our fingers to dig up carrots.
It's worth it to admire the snowy landscape.
An important winter task is collecting "gashappa"-the newsletter's name sake.
Gashappa are fallen leaves.
They'll be composted into soil.
These are the leaves
from last year.
After a year of composting.
They make a huge pile of the fallen leaves.
This will be left to compost on its own.
Eventually it will become nutrient-rich earth.
This soil is a treasure to any organic farmer.
Before starting on the rethatching, Kotaro has another job he must complete.
He uses a century-old technique to make a hotbed for growing seedlings in the cold.
Some of the fallen leaves collected earlier are spread inside a large frame in the greenhouse and watered.
Go, go!
Then they all tread it down.
This is called a 'trodden hotbed'.
-What's that?
-Rice bran. I'm adding it.
They sprinkle rice bran on the bed...
Oops, are you okay?
Old thatch from the roof is added and trodden down.
This lets the leaves and dried grass ferment, and begin to produce heat.
A hotbed that uses no electricity, just nature to stay warm.
After a week, the bed will maintain a temperature of over 30 degrees centigrade, even when frost forms outside.
It's almost time to rethatch the roof.
First, they have to prepare scaffolding for the team.
They're led by professional thatcher Mitarai.
A sturdy platform is completed.
The big day is finally here.
Mitarai always starts his jobs with a special warm-up.
Today, he and another professional will be hard at work, along with several neighbors who helped with the rice planting.
He starts by inserting slabs of cedar bark.
These will be the eaves of the roof.
Three short bundles, please.
The dirty surface thatch is lifted and the material underneath removed.
It's divided into damaged and reusable bundles.
As it's a partial replacement, new bundles are pushed underneath to raise the total thickness of the roof.
On the ground, the team cuts and bundles pampas grass, supporting the workers on the scaffolding.
The rice-planting group is helping out again.
And Kotaro has started pounding mochi.
I can do this quicker!
That's because his family is hosting the thatching team.
Maiko is cooking with freshly harvested vegetables.
We're out of regular rice
so there's just mochi.
That was so fast!
I guess.
Thank you.
A young woman who started learning about thatching has come.
Why did you take this job?
I started out as an artist
but was drawn to this material.
I wanted to work with it.
It's slow, but a few young people have been drawn into the profession by falling in love with thatch.
The work of replacing part of a roof is done by securing the dry grass with ropes...
it looks almost like sewing.
In Kansai they call it sewing.
Because we use these
ropes and wires.
A lot of regions think of it
as sewing.
A special tool is used to set the new material into place.
The painfully thin eaves are now bushy with fresh thatch.
It's been a week since the work began.
New logs are added to the scaffolding, increasing its height.
Kotaro also heads to the roof to help.
The old grass which can't be reused will be turned into fertilizer.
The children have come to help.
They load the old thatch onto a cart.
It will be plowed into the fields to create rich soil.
It's break time.
Oh, the children are playing up on the roof.
Sparkling bright
A beautiful spring sky Call to the distant forest!
The partial rethatching takes
over two weeks.
The team has reached the very top of the roof.
It's tough work.
I'm grateful to the Yamadas.
It's a real pleasure
to do this work.
The final day.
Maiko climbs up to the roof.
She's taking this last chance to try her hand at the work.
Use the weight of the shears.
Thank you.
Oh, it's really smooth.
It seems a shame to clip so much.
Right?
It looks so different from here.
It really does.
Beautiful lines.
It's not just done.
It's really beautifully done.
I've learned so much about
thatching from Mr. Mitarai's work.
It's a relationship with
a living, natural material.
Our ancestors were constantly
in touch with nature.
There's a lot to learn from them.
The rethatching is complete after 18 days.
Oh - are you climbing up again, Hana?
Thank you, Mr. Mitarai!
You're welcome!
Come back soon!
I will!
Hurray!
The family and their network of friends all worked together to bring the Yamada thatched roof back to life.
Today they're making handmade miso.
The usual group has gathered.
Oh wow!
I really like the stripes.
That's gorgeous.
Soy beans are soaked for two days
and cooked from 3:30 AM.
It's our third time
making miso here.
But never under
such a pretty roof!
Today, they're making 40 kilograms of miso.
Ground soy beans are mixed with
homemade koji mold and salt.
The Yamadas have found that farming reveals the pleasures of living alongside nature, and of spending time with family and friends.
This thatched roof shelters a lifestyle that's creating a nostalgic future for the family.
We wanted to become
local farmers.
Thinking about how
to sell our produce.
I was hoping
we'd make it a lifetime.
Never dreamed of so many friends
under our thatched roof.
Or that we'd have such
a wide network of people.
I think that's wonderful.
April.
A time of new beginnings.
And big sister Hana has just started elementary school.