"Rice (o-kome) is the staff of life of Japan-it keeps Fukuda-san and seventy five million brothers and sisters alive, well-filled and kicking (when there's lack of rice. they kick too, only harder). Here you see how rice is raised in tiny little farms. Most Americans would consider them just gardens, but the diligent Japanese farmer with his wife and children assisting, obtain from them a yield that even crusty New Englanders call miracles of production.

The rice seedlings are closely planted in the spring when the first warm day is come after the earth has been turned and fertilized, and the tiny field or paddy has been flooded by the spring rains. In a few weeks the seedlings are a bright luscious green and ready to be transplanted. This is the back-breaking job-knee deep, in “fragrant” fertilized black mucky earth.

Water is an essential. Sometimes it is brought to the paddy by means of a little water wheel (mizu-guruma) still foot operated as it was or the first rice plant. Fukuda-san starts to work about six a.m. all decked out in a snappy big straw hat (suge-gasa) short kimono, leggings (sune-ate) and very, fashionable arm wrappings (kote-ate). Not only are they chic-they keep off the blazing valley sun and the insects.

Our farmer's friend is at the primitive hand plow (suki) luckily assisted by a horse (uma) rarely seen in central Japan. His wife waves in the background en route to the next field (hatake) which she will tend mightily with the hand rake (te-suki). The inevitable "honeywagon" [manure] can be seen in the middle background.

Rice and shine, Fukuda-san! These days you are at last getting something of your due!"

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