1998, In Niigata prefecture, Urasa was where my working life truly began, and it did not ease me in gently. In the inital days as an Indian national, SNOW was a novelty. It slowly dawned on me that snow was not a special event there, it was the default setting in Japan's snow country. Every morning meant checking snowfall, clearing snow before starting the car, and driving carefully to the Hakkai Creates manufacturing facility with white walls closing in from both sides of the road. Snow shaped my days, and my patience. It was beautiful, yes, but also exhausting. Tokyo, by contrast, treats snow like a rare guest. It arrives once or twice a year, causes mild chaos, trends on social media, and disappears. Here in Tokyo, snow teaches appreciation, because you know it will be gone by tomorrow and sometimes in these 27 years in Tokyo, I have come to "sometimes" miss it again.
Yukimi Shoji is one of those quietly brilliant Japanese ideas that feels obvious only after you live with it. Literally meaning “snow viewing shoji,” it is a traditional sliding door or window where the lower panels are fitted with glass instead of paper. This allows you to sit indoors and enjoy the outside world even in winter, when snow piles up against the house. Unlike regular shoji that turn the outside into a soft blur, Yukimi Shoji keeps you connected to nature at eye level, letting in light, shadows, rain, snow, and the slow passing of seasons. Yukimi Shoji frames the exterior, allowing you to experience beauty without stepping outside.
Yukimi Shoji makes perfect sense in an independent house where the garden, snow, and ground are right there at eye level, but living in a mansion with a balcony changes the equation. I knew I was not going to see piled-up snow or a mossy garden outside my window, yet I still wanted to bring in that Japanese feeling of connection and calm. The balcony became my borrowed landscape, and I dedcided to make a minimalisic Japanese garden view. Brought in some bricks, white pebbles, a pot, some fake lotus flowers etc.
I am no pro, so I just brought in a few ore greens, and some wooden boards for the balcony and set them up as below. That completed what I can see from inside the room when the Yukimi Shoji is pulled up. Also added some LED lights at the floor level to light up the balcony at night.
Then I decided to wait. Not metaphorically, but literally wait for the day when it would snow and snow enough that it would start collecting on my balcony too. In Tokyo, that is not a small ask. Winters came and went for three years, each time teasing me with a light dusting that melted before it could mean anything. The Yukimi Shoji stood there quietly, doing its job with light and shadow, but without the moment it was born for. And then in 2026, it finally happened. Snow fell steadily, unapologetically, and for a brief window it stayed. It gathered on the balcony floor, softened the hard lines of the railing, and turned the outside into a living picture. I sat there knowing this would not last, and that was exactly the point. The joy was real because it was fleeting, a reminder from the snow country days that some experiences are valuable precisely because they refuse to stay.
To close this, if you are thinking of adding a Yukimi Shoji to your own space, the good news is that you do not need to treat it like a luxury purchase. Some of the best and most affordable pieces come from places where time has already done half the work. Yahoo Auctions Japan and Mercari are my first stops, especially if you are patient and willing to wait for the right size and condition. Rakuten Rakuma and Jimoty are also worth checking, particularly for local listings where people are renovating old homes and letting these go cheaply. If you want something more authentic and well made, there are craftsmen and specialty shops across Japan who still build or restore Yukimi Shoji properly, using traditional proportions and materials. These are not impulse buys, but they are honest ones. Whether you choose a weathered piece with history or a freshly made one from a skilled maker, Yukimi Shoji rewards patience, which is very much in the spirit of what it represents.