Anna K.
Google
Kita-no-maru Park occupies what was once the northern defensive enclosure of Edo Castle. Converted into a public park after the Second World War, it remains one of the greenest and most quietly composed spaces within central Tokyo. The old fortifications define its edges — deep moats, high earthworks and remnants of stone walls — but the interior has been reshaped into a landscape closer to a natural woodland than a formal garden.
The area you walked through, with its narrow stream, boulders and dense undergrowth, reflects that design philosophy. It feels almost untouched, with water moving slowly between stones and tall maples filtering the light. In autumn, the contrast is striking: the soft green canopy over the stream gives way, a few steps farther, to open lawns edged by ginkgo trees that turn a deep, luminescent yellow. The park absorbs these changes quietly, offering long, gentle transitions between forest shade, water reflections and wide, sunlit clearings.
Kita-no-maru is often described as a retreat rather than an attraction — a place where Tokyo’s scale drops away. The sounds soften, the air feels cooler, and the city seems held at a distance.
