Looking up at wind turbines on Aoyama Plateau in spring After the flowers, my eyes turn towards the sky

I came to Aoyama Plateau at the end of May. Azaleas were blooming on the low bushes in front of me, so I turned towards the flowers first. Then I lifted my eyes and saw the white turbine blades spreading wide across the sky. My wish to see the flowers turned into a wish to follow the blades all the way to their tips.

A gust of wind softly stirred the front of my pale yellow cardigan. I held the strap of my bag, which had started slipping from my shoulder, and kept looking up at the turbine. My hair blew across my cheek too, but I brushed it back towards my ear with one hand. I wanted to imagine both the wind reaching me and the wind all the way up there.

Watching the blades turn, I felt I could understand the length of each one better than when I’d seen them from far away. I followed a blade as it rose, then waited for the next one to pass. Only when my driving friend called to me did I realise I’d been watching the same turbine the whole time. So much time can pass just gazing at something moving.

My friend and I compared it with another turbine a little farther away. A large shape in front, and one that looked smaller behind. Trees stretched between them, with hazy mountains and plains beyond. When I looked back at the nearby azaleas, they seemed even more vivid than before, though they were so much smaller than the turbines. Looking up, looking down, looking far away. Each time I shifted my gaze, something different came into view.

Even when we started discussing where to eat on the way home, I was still looking at the blades. If we were heading down towards Iga, I was curious about Iga beef too. Only after telling my friend that did I finally adjust the way I was holding my bag. I’d come for a drive across the plateau, but today I thought the time I’d spent standing still and looking up would stay with me longer.