With autumn nipping at the air, deciduous trees are primed to put on a color display known in Japanese as koyo. Though usually written with Japanese characters for "crimson" and "leaves," koyo can also be written with the characters for "yellow" and "leaves" when describing varieties of trees such as those turning just now. Rikugien, in northern Tokyo near the Nanboku and Yamanote lines Komagome Station, is considered the capital's finest Edo Period (1603-1867) garden for viewing koyo, no matter how you write it.

Rikugien's Somei Gate, open only on weekends and special holidays, is directly in front of the subway exit. Otherwise, it's necessary to follow the brick wall that squares off the nearly 88,000-sq.-meter garden (roughly the size of four city blocks) along Hongo Avenue. A spattering of craft shops en route confirms that the path to the Daimon, the main entrance to Rikugien, is well trodden by tourists. Clothing fashioned from kimono vie for attention with scented scarves and potpourri, pottery and jewelry shops, but I resist.

The sight of Yushi Ishida, 13 years old, pulling a length of tightly tied fabric from a wide vat of viscid indigo dye grabs me, though. "I love the patterns I can make," the local junior-high student says, explaining why he often hangs out with proprietors at the shop Kobo Fureai. Once a kimono purveyor, the shop now sells ready-made aizome (indigo-dyed clothing) and also offers classes in how to make your own "to-dye-for" clothing. Ishida, dressed top to tail in his own creations, is so absorbed in the process that he barely notices when I move on.