Another gushy garden story
January 4, 2006
Why is this eighty-seven year old man smiling? One possible reason is that he has a garden… and neighbours. If I am any sort of judge of things that make one happy, I can report that the addition of a garden and all the things it brings with it, fresh veg and fruit, new friends, a sense of community, has increased my happiness considerably. Yesterday for example, I returned to the allotments to find that my generous neighbour, AlGouche, had pressed the eighty-seven year old Louis into service, installing a petit serre (little green house) for me in back of my cabane! AlGouche (see below) is concerned that, once back in Amsterdam, I’ll worry endlessly about spring planting, but with the serre up, in March I can just get down to business. My heart melted when I saw the two gentlemen happily digging and pounding away, just so that I wouldn’t worry! They even turned the soil, Louis taking very special care to remove all of the topinambour and bits of glass, and they all joked that I shouldn’t gush too much and keep them from their work.
By the way, the first I’d ever heard of Louis was not in the context of the garden, but in a dancing story. Having just returned from a village party last spring, Ktje rang me up in Amsterdam to report the party gossip and to tell of an amazing old man who was passionately dancing salsa all by himself for more than two hours straight. This old man was Louis, the kind of eighty-seven year old that I aspire to be, although it may take me awhile to develop an affinity for salsa.
image: AlGouche initiates the works for the retaining wall/serre with garden neighbour Louis
technorati tags: aging, farming community, happiness, gardening, Languedoc,
debra at 9:05 | Comments (1) | post to del.icio.us
Second to last walk of the year
December 29, 2005
*Without a prayer of an internet connection in sight, I have been enjoying my friends, the garden and the splendid but freezing environs. Today’s hike up the mountain led us past miner’s lettuce growing in the maze of thick stone walls. And while talking of lettuces and of mines, there was gunshot all around us. It’s hunting season, and I had left my orange cap at home.
The walk turned into a real adventure when, by chance, we met a bear of a mountain man, in his other life, an oceanographer. Our new acquaintance generously asked us in for some mountain style coffee on his homemade terrace which had irises **somehow hardy enough to bloom. Our new aquaintence has a two hundred degree view of both valleys, and is set up to maximise every minute of sunshine. He told us, that usually when the weather gets like this, (three weeks a year) he simply goes into hibernation, eating dinner at 15h and going to bed by 17h! An interesting man though, and we are pleased to have finally met an inhabitant of this mountain.
* - Merci, Wanadoo et France Neuf, both of whom treat their Mac customers very poorly.
** - My hopes of turning the soil before returning to the Pays Bas have been dashed by the cold.
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What smell is this, so strong and good?
December 28, 2005
Shih ching, in C. Birch and D. Keene (eds.) Anthology of Chinese Literature (1965), pb 1967 pp. 37-8.
High we load the stands,
The stands of wood and earthenware.
As soon as the smell rises
God on high is very pleased:
‘What smell is this, so strong and good?’
A text from the Shih ching, (Book of Songs), a collection of traditional ballads and fragments gathered after 600 BCE describing the life of the warrior farmers of the north western highlands of Shanxi (Shensi). This text is being quoted nowadays on websites hocking everything from garlic to hemp.
image: a closeup of kale farci
debra at 13:52 | Comments (2) | post to del.icio.us
