…Good morning.

This is Tohoku Itako.

This morning, I left home while it was still dark.

Because now that we’re past the middle of September, the morning breeze has completely changed.

…I thought if I was going to see the autumn grasses, now was the time.

🌾 The Seven Autumn Herbs Are Not for Eating

The seven herbs of spring are eaten in a rice porridge, nanakusa-gayu.

We eat it after New Year’s to wish for good health and longevity.

The seven herbs of autumn are different.

You just look at them.

You don’t pick them. You don’t boil them. You don’t put them in porridge.

You simply see them, blooming where they are.

…That’s all these seven herbs are for.

I always think, what a luxury.

Someone gave them names not for eating, but for viewing.

And those names have remained for over a thousand years.

📜 The Person Who Counted on Their Fingers Over a Thousand Years Ago

The seven autumn herbs are said to originate from two poems in the Man’yoshu.

They were composed by Yamanoue no Okura.

In the first poem, he counts, “When I counted on my fingers the flowers blooming in the autumn fields, I found there were seven kinds.”

In the second, he lists their names.

The hagi flower, obana, kuzu flower, nadeshiko flower

Ominaeshi, and also fujibakama, and the asagao flower

…Seven.

These are the seven autumn herbs.

Hagi (bush clover), Obana (pampas grass), Kuzu (kudzu), Nadeshiko (dianthus), Ominaeshi (golden lace), Fujibakama (thoroughwort), and Asagao.

The “asagao flower” is not thought to be the modern-day morning glory.

The prevailing theory is that it refers to the kikyō, or bellflower.

There are other theories about which flower it refers to, so I won’t state it as fact.

…It would be nice if I could ask the person from over a thousand years ago directly.

My job is spirit channeling, but it’s not quite that convenient.

🔤 “O-SU-KI-NA-FU-KU-HA”

There’s a mnemonic to remember them.

O-SU-KI-NA-FU-KU-HA.

• O … Ominaeshi (golden lace)
• SU … Susuki (pampas grass)
• KI … Kikyō (bellflower)
• NA … Nadeshiko (dianthus)
• FU … Fujibakama (thoroughwort)
• KU … Kuzu (kudzu)
• HA … Hagi (bush clover)

Just one thing to note.

The name that appears in the poem is “obana,” while “susuki” is another name for the same plant.

So rather than a perfect acronym, it’s more of a mnemonic device to help you remember.

…You just have to use it knowing that’s what it is.

🌫️ In the Morning-Misted Field

The field before sunrise is white.

Mist hangs low, and only the tips of the grass seem to float above it.

First, obana.

This was easy. The plumes of pampas grass were swaying slowly above the mist.

Next, hagi. On the slope of the bank, tiny reddish-purple flowers were spilling over.

Kuzu was twined around fences and trees. …This plant knows nothing of restraint.

Ominaeshi. Clusters of yellow beads at the tips of thin stems.

Nadeshiko took some time to find. They’re surprisingly small when hidden among the other grasses.

Kikyō. …Just a single plant, high up on the bank. I was a little surprised, as they say it’s become rare to see them in the wild.

And then.

I couldn’t find the fujibakama.

No matter how far I walked.

👧 By the River, I Gained a Companion

Just as I went down from the field to the riverbank, I heard footsteps behind me.

Kiritan: “…Itako-neesan. You weren’t home this morning.”

Itako: “…Did you come looking for me?”

Kiritan: “I’m on a walk. It’s just a coincidence.”

A coincidence, all the way to the riverbank.

…I’ll leave it at that.

I counted again on my fingers.

Six.

Kiritan: “Pampas grass grows everywhere, doesn’t it?”

Itako: “…It does.”

Kiritan: “Is it rare enough to be included in the seven herbs?”

Itako: “…It wasn’t chosen because it’s rare.”

Kiritan: “…Meaning?”

Itako: “Because the autumn scenery needs it.”

Kiritan was quiet for a moment, then looked up at a single stalk of pampas grass.

Kiritan: “…You’re right. It wouldn’t feel like autumn without it.”

She can be honest about things like that.

After that, the two of us sat for a while.

Kiritan started arranging stones from the riverbed.

Six large stones for the six I found.

And one small stone for the one I didn’t.

Itako: “…That’s for?”

Kiritan: “It’s for the fujibakama. It felt strange to just leave the missing one as nothing.”

…She does things like this sometimes.

She gives form to the very thing I wanted to say.

🍁 It’s Okay If There’s a Herb You Can’t Find

I never found the fujibakama in the end.

They say it’s a plant that has become harder to find in the wild than it used to be.

When that person counted on their fingers over a thousand years ago, it must have been right there.

…What isn’t there, isn’t there.

But I think that’s okay.

If the goal were to collect all seven, I could just line up some photographs.

What’s important is the time I spent walking and searching.

The speed at which the mist cleared.

The feeling of my hem getting wet with dew from the grass.

The moment a bird chirped just once, and then it was quiet again.

…Those things aren’t included among the seven I collected.

But they certainly remain with me.

🌙 Summary

• The seven autumn herbs are: hagi (bush clover), obana (pampas grass), kuzu (kudzu), nadeshiko (dianthus), ominaeshi (golden lace), fujibakama (thoroughwort), and kikyō (bellflower).
• Unlike the spring herbs, they are enjoyed by viewing, not eating.
• They are said to originate from two poems by Yamanoue no Okura in the Man’yoshu.
• The theory that “asagao no hana” refers to the kikyō (bellflower) is the most prominent (but not confirmed).
• The mnemonic for them is “O-SU-KI-NA-FU-KU-HA,” used as a memory aid.

Today, I found six.

Next year, it’s okay if I don’t find all seven.

…As long as I can walk again.

You can find more about me on Itako’s page.

The girl who happened to be at the riverbank is on Kiritan’s page.

…Well then.

I wish you a peaceful autumn.

This was Tohoku Itako.