【北海道札幌で試しに植えた「キウイ」南国果実】

　昨日、わが家2.0の方のいろいろな作業が進んでおりました。年末に向けて降雪状況を見ながら、工事なども進められていく予定。
　わたし自身の建築・土地関係の関与は４回目の経験。その都度で違いがあり、それぞれで立地環境、諸条件が大きく違ってくるのですが、やはりこういう経験というのは、それぞれの人生にとってけっこう大きな「決定要素」になっていくと実感。
　日本民族の歴史過程で紡ぎ出されてきた「一所懸命」という概念って、非常に血肉的で連綿とつながってきたものごとという思いが募ってくる。土地には個人を超えて「家」概念での継承性があって、そういうおおきな「マユ」のなかに自分もある、ということを強く思わされる。存続していく「家」のために自分の為すべきことは、と自然に考えるものでしょう。
　わたしの父親は、一族としては広島県福山市近郊から祖父が北海道の岩見沢市近郊に移住してきて、その地で産まれている。そしてその地での農家を売って札幌に移転して食品製造業として再スタートを切った。そして札幌での最初の開業地が道路拡幅で移転せざるを得ず、札幌市西区に移転して、本格的な工場一体型の建築を建てた。その土地と家を残して、世を去った。
　都合３回ほどの土地・建物との縁を結んできた。その末っ子であるわたしもすでに３回ほどのそういう経験をしてきている。
　そんな流れを追想しながら、さてどのように工夫して行けばいいか、と近未来、30年くらい先を構想していくことになる。そんな漠然とした思いを抱いて見ていたら、庭先になんと「キウイ」の果実が小さく成っているのが眼に飛び込んできた。
　30年前頃にこの家を建築したときに、義父が植えていたとのこと。あ、写真では右側のちっちゃいヤツがそうであります。一応、皮を剥いたヤツもいっしょに撮影。左側にはたまたまスーパーで買って残っていた市販の立派なキウイであります。
　どうしてこんな南国産のフルーツを植えたいと思ったのかは不明。なんだけれど、造園業を営んでいた義父にしてみると、自分が摂取した園芸知識を動員して、実験的に取り組んだのではないかと微笑ましかった。
　気候条件が南国とはまったく違うので、ことしの出来はまことにちっちゃい。剥いてからすこし恐る恐る口に運んでみたが、ほぼ酸味一色で残念感がしみじみと広がっていた。でもそのあと、爆笑・破顔一笑みたいな気分が盛り上がってきた。よくぞ、実験してみたものだ、という拍手したくなる気分になっていた。
　この木、残しておいて来年以降、その工夫努力を「継承」してみたいと思っている（笑）。


English version⬇

Kiwi” tropical fruit planted for trial in Sapporo, Hokkaido
Land and architecture are the basic factors of a house. Various “patterns of life” are layered in the environmental conditions. Experimentation and ingenuity leave their traces. Full of sourness. Sourness.

　Yesterday, various work progress was being made on our house 2.0. Construction work will continue toward the end of the year, depending on the snowfall.
　This is the fourth time I have been involved in construction and land-related projects. Each time the location, environment, and other conditions differ greatly, but I feel that this kind of experience is a major “deciding factor” in each person's life.
　The concept of “working hard,” which has been spun out over the course of the history of the Japanese people, is something that is very much in our blood and has been connected to us for a long time. The concept of “home” is inherited by the land beyond the individual, and I strongly feel that I am a part of such a large “Mayu”. It is natural to think about what one should do for the “family” to continue to exist.
　My father was born in Fukuyama City, Hiroshima Prefecture, where my grandfather moved to the suburbs of Iwamizawa City, Hokkaido, from the suburbs of Fukuyama City, Hiroshima Prefecture. He sold the farmhouse there, moved to Sapporo, and restarted his business as a food manufacturer. When the first business location in Sapporo had to be relocated due to road widening, he moved to Nishi Ward, Sapporo, and built a full-scale factory-integrated building. He left the land and the house behind and passed away.
　He left the land and the house behind and passed away. As the youngest son, I have already had three such experiences.
　While reminiscing about such a process, I will be thinking about the near future, about 30 years from now, and how I should devise a way to make it happen. As I was looking around with such vague thoughts in my mind, I noticed a small “kiwi” fruit growing in the garden.
　My father-in-law had planted them when he built this house more than 20 years ago. The tiny one on the right in the photo is the one on the left. The peeled one is also in the photo. On the left is a fine kiwi that I happened to have bought at the supermarket.
　I don't know why I wanted to plant such a tropical fruit. But it made me smile to think that my father-in-law, who was in the landscaping business, might have mobilized all the gardening knowledge he had acquired and experimented with it.
　The climate conditions were completely different, so the crop this year was very tiny. After peeling the grapes, I was a little afraid to put them in my mouth, but they were almost all sour, and a sense of disappointment spread through my mouth. But after that, I felt like bursting into laughter and smiling. I felt like applauding him for having experimented with this tree.
　I would like to keep this tree and “inherit” its ingenious efforts from next year onward (laugh).