The Dragon Mummy of Nara
Every time the mummy is taken out, it is said, the skies darken and rain begins to fall.
For centuries, the relic was believed to be the desiccated body of a dragon, preserved in the Shosoin Repository in Nara.
In 1429, a monk recorded in his diary how Ashikaga Yoshinori, the shogun of the day, visited the storehouse and saw an object described as a 'sun-dried dragon'. On that day, the heavens opened.
Leap forward six hundred years and researchers are preparing to leave Tokyo to examine the creature. The skies respond once again - with rain of such intensity that bullet trains are halted. But no rain lasts forever: the scientists eventually reach Nara and their findings were unveiled earlier this year.
The supposed dragon, measuring about 40 cm long, turned out to be the mummified remains of a Japanese marten, dating from the mid-11th to mid-12th century. It may have slipped into the traditional Japanese storehouse - there are still gaps in the ceiling - and never found its way out, its body preserved by the dry air within.
By the Edo period, it had earned the name of Koryu - Rainbow Dragon - perhaps because of its long neck and curled shape and probably because of its apparent ability to call water from the sky.
Dragons in the Ceiling
Look up at the ceiling in Kyoto’s great Zen temples and you may find a painted dragon staring back at you.
Since the earliest days of Buddhism in Japan, dragons have been considered protectors of the Dharma. Scriptures tell that, at the Buddha’s birth, dragons descended from the sky to shower him with sweet, fragrant rain.
They have since been revered as bringers of the 'rain of the Dharma', the teachings that soak into the world like water into earth. As gods of water, dragons are also invoked to shield wooden halls from fire.
At Myoshinji’s Hatto, or Dharma, Hall, 17th-century artist Kano Tan'yu painted a dragon surrounded by clouds, its vast body coiled within a circle symbolizing enlightenment.
The project consumed five years of his life. Legend has it that, when he painted in the eyes of the dragon, clouds massed around the hall and rain began to fall.
A Shower of Sweet Tea
That same image of rain blessing the world appears not only on ceilings, but also in the rituals of spring.
Every year, on April 8, temples across Japan fill with blossoms for the Hana Matsuri - Flower Festival - in celebration of the birth of Sakyamuni Buddha. At its center stands the infant Buddha, one hand raised to heaven, the other pointing to earth, as worshippers pour ladles of sweet tea, brewed from hydrangea leaves, over the small figure.
The rite, also known as Kanbutsu-e, recalls the legend of dragon kings showering the Buddha with fragrant rain at his birth.
Rain Words for Spring
The Japanese language itself is rich with words for rain - and more than a few rain names in this season celebrate flowers. Kurenai no ame - Crimson Rain - describes rain that falls in spring, a time of flowers blooming in every shade of red - peach, almond, azaleas and rhododendrons.
Haru no ame wa hana no fubo, goes the saying - the rain of spring is both father and mother to flowers. The gentle sprinkling that nourishes all plants might be called Sweet Rain or Flower-Nurturing Rain; yuei u - Flower-Delighting Rain - is a more poetic version.
The kanji for rain can be pronounced 'ame' or 'u'; spring rain is usually called harusame but the same characters (春雨) have a more formal reading: shun u.
Not all spring rains are gentle. Early in the season, rain falling with ice - haru mizore, Spring Sleet - can make it feel like winter again.
Even when the sakura has bloomed, a cold rain - hana shigure - can give the cherry blossoms a rude shock. Shigure, a capricious rain that leaves as quickly as it arrives - is associated with winter but, being given to whims, it falls in every season.
Similarly, haru yudachi is the spring version of yudachi, a sudden downpour that falls in the late afternoon or evening.
Summer and the Season of Plums
Often associated with the summer, yudachi goes by several lyrical names. In lighter showers, it is called gin sen - Silver Arrows - for the way the drops pierce the ground. When the rain grows heavier, the arrows thicken into gin chiku, Silver Bamboo.
Summer is also the season of sunshine in rain. In the Tokushima region, sun showers are cheerfully called Niji no Shonben - Rainbow Piss.
Across Japan, there are more romantic words and expressions for this mystifying mixture of rain and sun: tenkyu - Heaven Weeps - is one such name; others include kitsune no yome iri - Fox Wedding - or, more simply, kitsune ame - Fox Rain.
Japanese folklore tells of trickster fox spirits who use their supernatural powers to fool people. To hide a fox's bridal procession, the reasoning goes, the kitsune make it rain, forcing humans to duck indoors or under umbrellas.
But it’s the rainy season that really sends everyone dashing for cover. Called tsuyu - Plum Rain, for the ume that ripen then - it sweeps in with early summer, usually around the start of June.
One Archipelago, Many Tsuyus
The Japanese archipelago stretches long and lean from subtropical reefs to northern snows; the rainy season is a weather lesson written across latitudes.
Okinawa starts early: plum rain begins falling in May and, by late June, it’s already easing, handing the baton to summer.
Kansai - Kyoto, Osaka, Nara - typically settles into tsuyu in the first or second week of June, with the rainy season furling up around mid-July. Kanto - Tokyo and neighboring prefectures - follows close behind, with tsuyu stretching from the beginning of June to around July 20 in a typical year.
Further north, Tohoku lingers into late July while Hokkaido stands apart, scarcely touched by the monsoon pattern.
But climate is a chorus of voices, not a solo act. Dates drift - expect the Meteorological Agency to nudge them forward or back by a few days.
Traveler Tips: Making Peace with the Wet
Visiting Japan during tsuyu doesn't mean that your trip will be a washout. Plan like a local and you’ll make the most of sunlit hours between showers.
Pack quick-drying layers, a light outer shell and shoes that won't go soggy in puddles. If there's room, bring a spare pair.
Most hotels will lend you umbrellas but if you'd like a stronger, foldable brolly, get your own and leave it in your daypack.
Make your travel plans flexible. On wet mornings, head to a museum then enjoy newly washed gardens after the rain lifts. If a downpour catches you at a temple, look for the decorative rain chains - watching raindrops slide to the ground counts as meditation.
Expect predictability, not permanence. Rainy season doesn’t mean 'all day, every day' - it means 'often'. Showers pass. Streets steam. Another hour of sightseeing opens.
If you’re threading the Golden Route (Tokyo-Kyoto-Osaka), think of June and July as a soft-focus lens. The weather slows you down just enough to notice raindrops on flowers, mist rising from the mountains and the scent of the earth after rain. That’s the secret gift of tsuyu.
Akisame Zensen: The Autumn Rain Front
Summer in Japan ends the way it began: with a line on the weather map. In late summer into early autumn - end-August through October - the autumn rain front (akisame zensen) drifts in and makes camp.
This is also the season for taifu - typhoons - but the two are not to be confused. A typhoon is a traveler: a powerful storm shouldering across the map with strong wind and rainfall that pounds the area or a day or two, then moves on. The autumn rain front is a loiterer, raining over the same valley, the same river plain, the same coast, for days.
Late August and September is the time to be on the watch: the typhoon season hits its peak just as akisame zensen arrives.
Season of Mists and Migrations
Because the Japanese language keeps company with the weather, its lexicon for autumn is also packed with rain.
The kind that falls every year around the end of the Mount Fuji climbing season is known as oyama arai - Washing of the Sacred Mountain.
In another seasonal ending, hawks begin their yearly migration, gliding south on the wind. In Miyazaki prefecture, the long rains that fall at the end of September are called Taka Watari - Hawks Crossing.
Adding to the melancholy are the mists, which also appear in some autumn rains. A fine, light drizzle, for instance, is known as kirisame - Mist Rain. For a more evocative version, say, nekon ke ame - Cat Fur Rain.
In a country where the annual precipitation runs above the world average, it's only natural that the wealth of rain expressions should continue into the final months of the year.
At the start of winter, on a day of clear skies, if light snow or light rain dance in on the wind, that's kasa hana - Wind Flowers.
But the rains of winter are likelier to be ice-cold. Sasanka chirashi scatters camellias ruthlessly in a rain of pink and white petals and hisame - ice rain - chills you to the bone before it turns into snow or sleet.
Practical Japanese Rain Magic
No matter what season it may be, if there's a day in your calendar when it absolutely must not rain, consider invoking the power of a teru teru bozu.
Think of the Shine Shine Monk as the opposite of a rain-making dragon mummy. It's folk magic so you won't need a sorcerer's stone. Just ball up two sheets of tissue paper to make the monk's head, wrap it with a small white cloth or a sheet of white paper and secure it at the neck with a string or rubber band. Tie another string to the neck loop - and your Defense Against Dark Skies charm is ready for hanging.
A piece of advice from Edo-period wizards and witches: draw a face on the doll only when your wish for good weather has been granted. Make it a happy face.
But if it begins to drizzle when the skies are sunny, let it be - don't hang a teru teru bozu. A fox may be on her way to be married and the rain that falls is simply a bridal shower - and a blessing.
By Janice Tay