In the last blog, we saw how poetic leaf-related words can be. But don’t let these words lull you into thinking that Japanese is always abstract and dreamy! Far from it. Many leaf-related words have astounding and even crazy degrees of specificity.

For instance, we already saw two words about fallen leaves in the last blog. Here’s yet another term in that vein, this one emphasizing that the fallen leaves have become wet:

濡れ落葉 (nureochiba: wet fallen leaves)
     to get wet + to fall + leaf

With the water radical making a double appearance in the compound, these leaves certainly look wet! The appears inside 落 because 洛 originally meant “falling water,” according to Kenneth Henshall. But meanings change, and nowadays 濡れ落葉 refers figuratively to middle-aged men, particularly those who have retired. They lie around, posing a nuisance to their wives, who find them as difficult to sweep away as wet leaves in the streets.

For Other Highly Specific Leaf Words …

Photo credit: Treve Johnson

Flavorful Foliage

On the subject of craziness with leaves, check out this concept:

朴葉味噌 (hōbamiso: magnolia leaves grilled with miso and onions)     magnolia + leaf + flavor + boisterous

It’s easy to conclude from this that people actually eat magnolia leaves, possibly relishing their “boisterous” flavor! But I’ve found that the magnolia leaves mainly serve as a base for food grilled on top. Still, they do impart some of their flavor to that food. Hmm … doesn’t sound too tempting!

For More Magnolia Dishes …

I’ll shift over to a leaf that seems more appetizing:

葉茶 (hacha: tea leaf)     leaf + tea

I love the repetition of the grass radical at the top and the trees（木) at the bottom. Well, the second kanji doesn’t quite include a tree, but you know what I mean. It does contain a lovely set of sloping lines, almost like the cascading roofs of a pagoda. Such soothing symmetry lies in 茶!

And as long as we’re talking about ingesting leaves, here’s a quick quiz:

For the Answer …

When a Leaf Is No Longer a Leaf

In English, “leaf” has spun off meanings far beyond the tree-related one. We have leaves in a table, and we leaflet people. Similarly, in Japanese, one can’t always assume that a leaf is a leaf is a leaf. Take, for instance, this word:

百葉箱 (hyakuyōsō or hyakuyōbako: louvered box for housing meteorological gauges outdoors)
     100 + counter for flat things + box

The kanji 葉 doesn’t actually mean “leaf” in this word. With the yomi of YŌ, 葉 can be a counter for thin, flat objects.

YŌ YŌ YŌ! …

I’m interpreting the breakdown above as referring to a box with 100 pieces in its louvered sides.

A 百葉箱 to the Nth Power …

Out on a Limb
and Other Leafy Expressions

When English speakers say “out on a limb,” they’re often referring to “danger,” “vulnerability,” or Shirley MacLaine. (That’s the second time she’s shown up in my blog posts! What could this mean?!) But when the Japanese emphasize the length of a limb—that is, the distance between the trunk of a tree and its leaves or branches—they have a different concept in mind:

枝葉 (shiyō or edaha: leaves and branches; side issues)
     branch + leaf

This term gives rise to another wonderful one:

枝葉末節 (shiyōmassetsu: unimportant details)
     branch + leaf + end + season

In other words, people concerned with unimportant details can’t see the forest for the leaves.

And which people would those be? Well, I believe they would be those endowed (or afflicted) with kanji curiosity! They can’t see the text for the kanji, because the characters inspire investigations that repeatedly draw their attention away from a passage. Here’s a perfect term for such people:

根掘り葉掘り(nehori-hahori: inquisitive about every detail, thoroughly, persistently, through-and-through)
     root + to dig + fragment + to dig

I love the way nehori-hahori sounds. It comes across as a Polynesian chant or incantation. Try saying it ten times and see if you end up hypnotized!

To find the opposite of these thorough sorts, simply remove the horis (the digging):

根も葉もない (ne mo ha mo nai: unfounded rumor, completely untrue)     root + leaf

Literally, this means that there is neither a root nor a leaf (which presumably would serve as evidence). But why would roots and leaves stand as metaphors here? I imagine that when people use this expression, they’re implicitly thinking of the opposite behavior, which we found in 根掘り葉掘り. That is, they’re tsk-tsking that those who have spread rumors haven’t done their due diligence, their digging into the facts.

Here’s one more bit of philosophy having to do with leaves:

石が流れて木の葉が沈む。
rock + to flow + tree + leaf + to sink
Ishi ga nagarete konoha ga shizumu.
Literal meaning: Rocks will flow, and leaves will sink.
Figurative meaning: There are exceptions to every rule.

This expression is straightforward, except for the way 木 (which usually has the kun-yomi of ki) has the kun-yomi of ko here. On rare occasions, 木 does have that yomi when serving as a prefix. Examples include the following:

木の葉 (konoha: foliage)     tree + leaf
木陰 (kokage: tree shade)     tree + shadow
木立ち (kodachi: clump of trees)     tree + to stand
木羽 (koba: shingles)      tree, wood + wings!!!

Final Foliage Quizzes

All the examples in the preceding list are kun-kun combinations. For that reason, they might make you think of Japanese place name compounds (such as 広島, Hiroshima, wide + island), which also tend to combine kun-yomi. Well, even if your mind didn’t go there, here’s a geography quiz about kun-yomi and leaves.

For a Leafy Geography Quiz

And while we’re at it, here’s your Verbal Logic Quiz for the day. Enjoy!

For the Verbal Logic Quiz …