It is well known warehouses built in earth plaster using inoculated fermented straw and soil keeps fruits, vegetables fresh longer and inhibits mold and microbial growth on paper, books, clothes, antiques etc. Hence Japanese "Dozō". But you can build miniature storage boxes too.

A Japanese master plasterer designed boxes built exactly like regular earthen warehouse walls, except he reused wooden wine crates. He sells kits, or you can use your own materials to make your own if you feel up to it.

The practical skills in thatching can be difficult to acquire by videos or books alone, especially how to find materials and the binding. In Finland there is a traditional thatching technique that uses only easy to find reed and no binding: just spread it out and weigh it down. A bound reed roof is far steeper and thus lasts longer, but it requires more skill to do correctly. Reed is often available for free and in vast quantities anywhere it grows, harvesting it is doing nature a favor. All materials used in a reed roof are compostable, all hand tools.

Maybe one of the oddest professions in Japan is that of the bokka (歩荷). Porters who carry supplies to remote mountain guesthouses inaccessible to vehicles. A bokka uses customized wooden ladder frames to carry 100-165kg of supplies on day long marches (walk up, run down).





The job is popular: not surprisingly veteran bokka routinely tests as fitter and healthier than elite athletes. Both men and women take on the job, the average weight of a bokka is 60-70kg.

Iriairinya (入会林野) is the Japanese term for "commons". In the West the term "commons" are usually meant as fields for grazing but Japanese commons were traditionally the mixed grass and forest lands between mountains and flatlands usable in agriculture. Iriairinya are typically from a couple of hectares up to 50-60 hectares. Still a valid legal concept, village's who manage commons also have the option to incorporate them (as modern organizations), to make them more compatible with modern legal practices.

The miracle of Usami: at 11:58 A.M. Sept. 1st 1923 a great earthquake struck the Tokyo region. Near the epicenter was Usami village, where no one was killed or injured while neighboring villages each had hundreds dead and wounded. How?

The villagers of Usami had an exceptionally long memory. Records, monuments and tales of a huge 1703 quake had been preserved and stories of what happened was still in vivid memory. The locals acted unbelievably fast, evacuations started as soon as the trembling stopped.

The post town Tsumago-Juku (pop 400) in Japan was founded in 1601. In 1960 it took a unique decision to dedicate itself to its own preservation by three golden rules: "No selling, no letting, no destroying." Every renovation or rebuilding even of private homes is done in common.





The town's main income is obviously tourism, but in order to preserve the town the locals figured out a method where they build and renovate as much as possible by themselves, together. One ex. is the town's six remaining "ancient style" ishiokiyane: shingle roofs held by rocks.

Nostalgia is good for you. It makes you a better person, a better neighbor and a better parent. Ignore the "yeah but" people who will inevitably reply to this.
nationalgeographic.com/science/articl… Nostalgia warms your memory of the good things so that you can better ward off the bad things. It softens the pain of the evils we have to endure and it affects every single sense or memory in your physical body. From sight to sound to touch to scent.

Skywells. Chinese traditional architecture and natural/passive ventilation by the interior courtyard or roof opening. It can be found all around the world: (thread) bbc.com/future/article… The New World, Guatemala:

https://twitter.com/wrathofgnon/status/1267642681632542720

Wild animals in Japan cause agricultural losses of billions of yen every year and every year things get worse. But since 2005 Japanese farmers have begun to fight back with their oldest weapon and oldest ally: the "monkey dog." In Omachi City, a farmer noticed how his dogs seemed eager to go after the wild monkeys ravaging his farm, and he got a permission to trial it. The results were immediate: as he unleashed his dogs the farm went from near total losses to no losses at all almost overnight.

That forests function as flood barriers is well known. A mature forest becomes a green dam that will store rainwater, slowing it down before reaching rivers and cities. What wasn't well known was the degree to which forests "intercepts" rain before it even reaches the ground. Trees and their leaves have surface areas many thousands of times larger than the area they occupy. Leaves, stems, bark can hold vast amounts of water which easily evaporates after the rain. It has been shown 20-30% of water captured by forests is held by the trees themselves.

A sustainable 17th century Japanese agricultural system receives FAO acknowledgment: the Musashino Forest Litter Compost (武蔵野の落ち葉堆肥農法). How the badlands of a volcanic soil alluvial plateau became a system of market gardens supplying Edo (Tokyo) with food. (thread) In the early 17th century the Musashino plateau north west of Edo was unusable for agriculture but the city's population was growing rapidly. With soil of volcanic ash and gravel there was no water and no fertility when the Kawagoe Clan were tasked with feeding the new capital.

“Opening a window may be more important than originally thought as fresh air with lower carbon dioxide, reduces acid content in the atmosphere and means the virus dies significantly quicker.”
https://t.co/UukT7brUkMbristol.ac.uk/news/2023/june…


This Victorian era classroom is basically a Virus killing machine: huge windows (UV light and fresh air kills viruses and bacteria), wood and plaster interiors regulate humidity to the golden 40-60% zones that airborne viruses hate. And anything that lands on a surface is zapped.

Worker's homes, called "familoks" they are typically of three floors in brick with red painted details built ca. 1906-1927 in Silesia (modern Poland), to house miners and their families in planned self-sustainable towns producing everything from food to water, energy, goods. Although disused today, the large courtyards around which the homes were arranned were crammed with vegetable gardens, collective ovens, places to keep and rear fowl, goats, pigs. The towns also had schools, hospitals, churches etc.

The machine, modernity, hates the sacrifice because it can't be commodified. The sacrifice is the enemy of the modern world. It is the home toiled and cared for versus "Housing". It is personal charity versus public welfare. It is the thing that lasts versus the product. They don't want the family. The family does things for each other in the name of love. They make babies, they care for and nurse and teach and clothe and finally bury each other. There is no money in this. Therefore, the Machine wants the family destroyed by negation.

During the long peace of Edo period (1603-1867) of Japan, samurai in the capital devoted most of their private gardens to growing vegetables, herbs and fruit. To supply them with seeds and seedlings there were salesmen, "botefuri" going door-to-door in the elite neighborhoods. These botefuri (usually) men sold everything from bonsai to pet insects to fresh fish and also dealt in recycling by buying scrap paper, cloth, ash, bones, rage etc. We have decent records of how many they were because of an official license system.

On May 11th, 2023, five West African countries agreed to launch huge a regional rail building project, over 3,000km connecting Abidjan-Ouagadougou-Niamey-Cotonou-Lomé. Ghana doesn't seem keen to join, maybe because of less obvious benefits compared to say Burukina Faso or Niger. Now would be a good time to open a network of high schools focused on graduating trainee railroad engineers. They will need many thousands of them in the next few decades.

19th century herring fisheries almost wiped out the entire forest on a remote island off the coast of Hokkaido, Teuritō. When the forests disappeared the topsoil and water went too, and only in 1956 it was decided to act. But how to plant a forest on a windswept ocean island? Teuritō (天売島) is 5.47km². In 1956 only 1.8% was forested. Today the figure is probaby 40% and rising. To recreate the forests "forts" were built: moats were rain water could accumulate and tall fences in square patterns to protect saplings from wind: willow, pine, oak, spruce.

The traditional method of fertilizing agricultural land (karishiki, organic compost or raw materials) in Japan since prehistoric times mostly came to a stop in the 1970s, except for one spot: the Mount Tsurugi area of Toyama prefecture. Karishiki in mountain areas is peculiarly multifunctional, modern chemical fertilizers just doesn't work as well. The reason is the steep stony slopes: you can put all the chemicals in the world on them, it just washes away in the almost daily warm rains.

Slit dams were introduced in Japan in 1976 as a way to control catastrophic erosion and flash flooding. Replacing regular dams and weirs, under normal circumstances they allow a natural free flowing river and sedimentation, but in case of an upstream collapse it captures debris. Slit dams could either be purpose built or openings can be cut out of existing conventional dams. Once the flooding is over it can be safely cleared from rock or wood debris and primed for re-use.

In Japan (like elsewhere), wells are considered holy. Traditionally, once dug they can not be filled in as it would trap the spirit (or god) of the well. Only the most foolhardy building crew would undertake such a task without proper precautions, from a prayer to a ceremony. The well was dug to serve the people who lived around it and even when "filled in" they're never actually closed for good, there is always a pipe of some kind to allow the well spirit to leave. More profane people would just see it as a handy way to let well any gas expel safely.

All buildings and all streets are compromises. There is no design that can cover all needs or aspects of daily life, but there is a lot we can do to fine-tune a place or a building, like the tōrihisashi, street-facing townhouse eaves of western Japan on the ground-floors. 通り庇 Nothing destroys a building like water, and eaves is the easiest way to protect it but in tight urban areas eaves can't be large enough to protect a two story building, hence every floor gets its own set of eaves. And if rain and sun ruins buildings, it can also ruin business.