Takezaki no Katsura

The trunk that started this tree is gone. What stands on the slope above the Hii River is a cluster of heavy stems that grew from the old base and root once the original decayed away, and each of them has since become a substantial tree in its own right. That is the ordinary fate of a very old katsura rather than a sign of failure, and it is why the age given here, roughly 1,300 years, belongs to the organism rather than to any single stem you can put a hand on. It has been a National Natural Monument since 1933 and reaches 32 metres. No source we checked has ever taped its girth, which on a tree this shape is an awkward measurement in the first place. If somebody has the number, we would like it. Iron is why the species matters here. Okuizumo was the heart of Japan's tatara country, where sand iron was smelted in clay furnaces, and Kanayago-kami, the deity of the furnace, is said to have come down riding a white heron and settled in a katsura. That made the tree sacred across the district, and this is the specimen the district kept. Go in autumn. Katsura turn a clear butter yellow, and the fallen leaves smell of burnt sugar.