Where I live, cotton fields often bloom a little earlier than the Japanese almanac marks for this microseason. White petals open against the lingering heat, standing bright in the green fields of late summer. This time is called 綿柎開 (Wata no hana shibe hiraku), “cotton blooms open,” named for the bracts that unfold to reveal each flower.
A coworker once told me about his summers as a child, when he would pick cotton to earn spare change. The work left his fingers scratched with countless tiny cuts from the bracts. Years later, he planted seeds from the same region where he had once picked, determined to see cotton grow again. Only a few plants took root, but the sight of them was enough, a living link back to those fields and those summers of work and memory.
Cotton’s life cycle is a story of effort and change. Blooms give way to fibers that, with time, can be spun into thread and cloth, into fabric that shapes daily life. Read about cotton’s life cycle here!.
When I see cotton in bloom, I think less about what season is coming and more about what has already been. Cotton is planted at the beginning of summer and picked near its end, so it carries the arc of the season within it. This summer has been challenging for me and my family. At times, we are simply grateful that autumn is close and the heat is about to break. But it feels just as important to pause for reflection. The fields hold memories in their fibers, just as we carry summers of our own, days of labor, stories shared, and small accomplishments that tie us to where we have been.