Edo Snowflakes

By Thomas Gibbs

Edo period writers were fascinated by snow. The famous painter and printmaker Shiba Kōkan (who published prints under the name of Harushige) published a collection of sketches of snowflakes under a microscope in 1796. While in 1832 Daimyo (feudal lord) Doi Toshitsura categorised 86 different types of snowflake in an observation book. Suzuki Bokushi’s 1837 Hokuetsu Seppu (Snow Stories of North Etsu Province) also diagramatised snowflakes as part of a wider discussion of the nature of snow and became an immediate bestseller.

*Suzuki Bokushi, "Hokuetsu Seppu”, published Edo, 1837.*

*Doi Toshitsura, snowflake observation book, 1832, location unknown.*

Why did these 19th century researchers invest so much time in understanding snowflakes? Well, besides having too much time on their hands (which I am convinced is the driving force behind most scientific advances), Edo-period literati would have been very aware of the seasons changing. Vast swathes of Japan are submerged into snow for the entire winter, while others catch only a brief glimpse of snow. Edo prints frequently depict wintery scenes. Hiroshige’s famous landscape prints marvel in the joys of the crisp morning snow and many views of Edo show seasonal changes.

Furthermore, the unique nature of snow allowed for microscopic studies that merged the Edo trend for rangaku (Western studies) with a longstanding cultural fascination with (and celebration of) transience. There is only a brief moment where studies like these can happen then.

The first snow was particularly prized as an example of ichigo, the awareness of the uniqueness of a transient moment. As the snow flurries down, that first snowflake becomes lost in the blizzard. Before long the blizzard is over, the snow has settled, and eventually it will melt. The Edo Japanese saw something beautiful in that and I think next time it snows in St Andrews, I will too.