Everything’s Better When the Sun Goes Down
Nocturnal views of a famous Japanese garden
Japan’s classic gardens are well known for their unique artistic approach to horticulture. No two visits are quite the same as the sun’s movement throughout the day casts shadows that hide and then reveal each part of the garden.
But while most visits will occur during daylight hours, some gardens offer special nighttime viewings. I recently enjoyed an evening saunter through Okayama’s Korakuen Garden.
Such nighttime visits are carried out with a different vibe. The sun’s sharp radiance is gone, replaced by diffuse lighting that invites us to leave our worries behind. At this time of day, there are no urgent decisions to be made, no checklist of things yet to do, no prescribed path — just relax, let it happen, follow your muse.
Throughout the month of August, Korakuen extends its opening hours until 9:30 p.m. when the lawn and paths are dotted with hundreds of colored lights. Many visitors will purchase an entrance ticket for a daytime visit, then return in the evening to see the garden again. (This double entry option is only available in August.) Anyone wearing a yukata is admitted free.
Located in the historic center of a bustling city, Korakuen is a quiet refuge. It achieves its greatness through simplicity.
The garden is on an island situated at the great bend in the Asahi River, where the water flows gently around the Okayama Castle prominence. The best approach is on foot, across the tsukimi (moon viewing) bridge. This short walk is where the transition away from the urban hustle begins: the castle comes into view, a dense canopy of trees beckons, and young couples frolic below in rent-by-the-hour swan boats.
Once across the bridge, the footpath to the entrance is through a grove of Japanese cypress that block the punishing heat of the summer sun. There is no hint of what awaits on the other side of the ticket booth. Pay the ¥500 entrance fee, walk ten steps, and snap!! There’s the garden.
Spread out before you is an open lawn, manicured to perfection, a golfer’s dream come true, with paths encircling it, crossing it, dividing it into sections. Deciding which way to go is not important, because getting lost or missing out is simply not possible.
But having everything right in front of you doesn’t mean you’ve seen all there is to see. The brilliance of the garden’s design is that everything on the far side of the lawn comes into view. What’s far away is put into focus. And as you circuit the perimeter, that distant view-shed changes with every step.
This trick of the eye was not obvious to me from the start. But an impromptu glance in a new direction suddenly brought the beautiful sloping roof tiles of Okayama Castle into distant view, peeking above the garden’s encircling grove of trees. Stunning! A perfect picture spot. Then after a short stroll, a different, equally perfect framing of the same castle. In a most unexpected way, that castle in the distance brought fresh enjoyment to different foreground scenes, again and again.
All along the lawn’s enclosing footpath, chairs and benches invitingly offer the visitor chances to pause and reflect. Here and there, they whisper “slow down, take in the view, see and be seen”. Look across the pond to the far side . . . look across the bridge to the teahouse . . . look across the grass to the impeccable En’yō-tei House . . . look across and see the other side of the world.
There are traditional treats to enjoy while taking in the scenery: matcha and dango and daifuku at Sazanami Chaya; soft-serve ice cream with plum jam at the Renchi-ken rest house; local Doppo craft beer and local Miyashita gin sours at the gift shop. Linger a while in the very spots where daimyō formerly sought their own refreshment and repose.
Part of the garden’s appeal is its ever-changing seasonal show: trees that burst forth in spring with buds of renewal; that are fully clad in summer’s verdure; that are aflame with autumnal hues; and that stand in skeletal form while sleeping through winter. Should we count a nighttime visit to watch the moon rise as yet another season?
A summer evening stroll through the garden is a photographer’s playground. As the sun sinks low, and the bright daytime glare mellows, the cool lighting enhances the contrasting elements within the frame. Work fast though, because it’s all over within minutes.
One of the benefits of these evening tours is that visitors are allowed access to portions of the grassy area that are normally off-limits. Groups of older adults sit in circles, sharing each other’s company, waiting for the moon to appear, as the sun loosens its grasp and the nighttime air brings a sigh of relief. A murmur of 「suzushi」 ripples across the lawn.
All of this brings to mind Japan’s first full length novel “The Tale of Genji” where the protagonist prowls his four-season gardens night after night, reciting ardent love poems to one woman after another, each of whom is expectantly waiting behind flimsy bamboo screens to hear the hero’s swooning verses.
Are those centuries old flames of passion so different from today?
With orange, black and white koi swimming in the pond . . . with young misses wearing colorful yukata laughing with giddy abandon . . . with randy couples holding hands after imbibing . . . and with the full moon rising over the encircling grove . . .
It must be true, that everything’s better when the sun goes down.
