On the lawn near the lake, young children scamper, wielding rectangular hanetsuki rackets in an effort to hit the small shuttlecock back and forth without letting it touch the ground; the longer they keep it in the air, it is said, the greater the protection from mosquitoes they will have. So, though they might be hungry, the children disregard the women in kimonos pounding rice for the making of mochi cake. They also ignore the commotion under the tent, where the shishimai shakes his elaborately decorated, fearsome lion’s head, prancing and leaping in time to the thundering of the taiko drummers.

It is Oshogatsu, or the Japanese New Year’s Day festival. And while all these activities are eagerly awaited in Japan and its primary expatriate communities every year, they’re unanticipated in south Palm Beach County, where the largely Caucasian population might be more likely to celebrate tanning or shopping. Or, I should say, it might seem so—at least for those who aren’t familiar with The Morikami Museum and Japanese Gardens, where Oshogatsu and other events like it have been taking place since its opening in 1977.

The complex is named for George Sukeji Morikami, who in his eighties donated the 200 acres in Delray Beach that comprise it. Morikami was the last of the Japanese immigrants—all bachelors—who founded the Yamato Colony on this land in 1904.

Led by Jo Sakai, who had graduated from New York University, the group had intended to grow pineapples in south Florida. Instead, the subtropics (the blight, the brush, the bugs), along with competition from Cuba, defeated them, and the colony dispersed by the 1930s. Morikami was the sole farmer to stay on, succeeding with local row crops and by wholesaling produce. (His grant to Palm Beach County was his tribute to his countrymen, but it’s not the only one—Yamato Road, winding through Boca Raton today, is also named for the original 30 or so men.)

For those who do know The Morikami, Oshogatsu is just one opportunity to shed a layer of Western culture and put on an Eastern one. Indeed, until hurricane season heats up in early fall, you can apply several veneers throughout the winter, spring and summer.

Following Oshogatsu, Hatsume Fair, held the last full weekend of February, is a two-day event celebrating the beginning of spring (though our lovely south Florida weather might make it already feel summerlike).

March brings “Four Strings & 88 Keys: A Night of Violin and Piano,” a wonderful collaboration between renowned musicians Shunske Sato and Tao Lin.

In April, celebrate Children’s Day, based on the Japanese national holiday, Kodomo-no-hi.  This event highlights plenty of indoor and outdoor staged performances from many different cultural groups. Follow this with Mother’s Day, where the kids can make their moms origami flowers that won’t wilt.

Zigzagging bridges over the lake slow you down so you can watch snapping turtles poke their heads above water; pine trees, apropos of longevity, are placed to both hide and reveal the next intimate moment with nature.

Finally, the Bon Festival, or Obon, celebrating the annual “visiting” of familial spirits with the paper lantern float on the lake and fireworks above it, takes place in August. This last celebration’s a hot and humid one. The well-kempt lake has been designed to always be in motion, even when not breezy, in order to represent continuity of life. The lake beckons visitors to revel in its cool waters, but unless you’re a great blue heron or a box turtle, there’s no wading or swimming allowed. (And do note: Like all bodies of water in Florida, this one contains alligators, even if you can’t see them, or the signs warning you that they’re in there.)

With the exception of the classical concerts, all of these festivals showcase combinations of martial arts demonstrations, folk dancers, Japanese art and music demonstrations, bonsai and orchid sales, children’s activities and both Japanese and American food pavilions.

In addition to the annual, seasonal festivals, The Morikami presents a regular schedule of sado, or tea, ceremonies, plus presentations, lectures, workshops, classes on calligraphy and flower arranging and sake tastings—with optional bento box dinners supplied by the museum’s full-service Cornell Café.

Don’t disregard the Cornell Café as just another museum vendor, either. The sushi here is as expertly trimmed as any I’ve had in local independent restaurants, and there’s also some pan-Asian flair with dumplings, curries and noodle dishes on the menu. Museum members, who don’t have to pay admission fees, often come here to lunch al fresco, with views of the lake rippling below. It’s a truly pleasant scene.

Even more agreeable, in the summer, there’s an eagerly awaited series of “Sushi & Stroll.” This is when, with wine in hand and fresh tuna rolls from the café awaiting you at the end of it, you can experience Roji-en at sunset.

Roji-en, or the 16-acre “Garden of the Drops of the Dew,” is also known formally as the George D. and Harriet W. Cornell Japanese Gardens. Roji-en is the centerpiece of The Morikami, and deservedly so. Created by Hoichi Kurisu, Roji-en is actually six separate gardens, inspired by famous Japanese examples. They all represent different historic periods and interpretations of the art—this one might be abstract, with rocks placed to suggest a waterfall, this one minimalist with pebbles combed in waves that could tempt an anarchist to frenzy. But in the end, each use the same elements (rocks, green growth and water), and symbolism (a rock is an island, a puddle is an ocean) to achieve the desired effect.

I’ve been shocked, at times, to see guests to the gardens rambling in spots that they shouldn’t: off the path, climbing on trees or rocks, splashing in the various water features. That said, there are certain flat rocks and benches that are placed conveniently in the various, distinct gardens for you to rest, relax and enjoy. I often bring a notebook in case I get inspired enough to write a few lines of poetry, and I’ve seen plenty of folks in a ruminative state of mind—especially in the “contemplation pavilion” that is designed just for that purpose. This can be a little hard, of course, during festivals, when as many as 5,000 people throng the compound.

Nor do you have to actually “stroll” the gardens—it’s all accessible by wheelchair and stroller, though some of it’s easier going than others. (Trust me, I had to wheel my daughter, who had broken her foot, through the entire campus. It’s doable, if not ideal.)

In between the individual settings, the stone-paved path takes many forms, symbolically prodding your subconscious: zigzagging bridges over the lake slow you down so you can watch snapping turtles poke their heads above water; pine trees, apropos of longevity, are placed to both hide and reveal the next intimate moment with nature; running bamboo, whose roots are all part of the same system, show an incredible flexibility one moment and make music by rattling into each other the next.

There are also various sculptures of note, including the Wisdom Ring, a replica of a 500-year-old stone lantern donated by Delray Beach’s Japanese sister city, Mizayu. All in all, there are 25 points of major interest to view throughout Roji-en. Even the fastest tour takes about an hour.

If you’re not an expert on Japanese garden art—and who is?—there’s a 60-minute, self-guided audio tour, available in Spanish and English. The garden design part is narrated by Kurisi himself, and there’s a good bit on the museum’s history, detailed by curator Tom Gregerson. For the kids, a “family fun track,” with commentary, question and ideas aimed toward children, is on hand.

Of course, the hour-long circuit is really just a taste of what The Morikami offers. Many visitors find themselves drawn back again and again to the Roji-en’s meditational paths and gardens, which have been shown to help depression, as well as the museum’s galleries, Seishin-an (tea room), gift shop and café.

Others spend their time viewing the indoor galleries, which feature a permanent collection, The Yamato Colony: Pioneering Japanese in Florida, as well as rotating exhibitions of fine art and objets d’art. On a particularly scorching day, in fact, I prefer the interior, finding it just as soothing as the gardens. And I appreciate the time to really view, in-depth, the more than 5,000 works of arts and artifacts, many of which depict the life of the long-ago Yamato community.

But if you only have one chance to check out the property’s cultural gifts, do try to make it during a festival, when you can get a broad spectrum—and perhaps try your hand at hanetsuki. The resulting mosquito protection alone will be worth the trip.