As a child, I remember singing...”April showers will bring May flowers.” Here in Ukraine the flowering season has arrived surrounding even the most stark Soviet style building with a breath of freshness.
I arrived in Ukraine just one month ago on April 1st. Winter was winding down and temperatures soared into the 70s for a few days. It was enough to give a hint of spring green. While temperatures would dip near freezing in the weeks ahead, the seasons were changing. My friend Bob wrote me in mid-April saying that the ice was “mostly off the lakes” in Maine. I think Ukraine is ahead of Maine.
My first weekend in Chernihiv saw the annual Spring clean-up. Organizations from across this city of 300,000 mobilized some 20,000 people to rake up the winter debris. Chernihiv can really turn out people of all ages. Pride, I think. Paint was provided for benches and fences to be given a quick coat of color. Purple was the flavor this year.
My first weekend in Chernihiv saw the annual Spring clean-up. Organizations from across this city of 300,000 mobilized some 20,000 people to rake up the winter debris. Chernihiv can really turn out people of all ages. Pride, I think. Paint was provided for benches and fences to be given a quick coat of color. Purple was the flavor this year.
Interestingly, trees are given a coat of white wash. I have not discovered whether this is a cosmetic preference or has some utilitarian purpose. Either way it seems to be a wide spread practice.
The city housing is mostly comprised of with box-like apartment complexes that create an open space in the middle away from the highways and streets. Trees frame the space and benches and maybe a child's swing or two complete the park like area. Often in the late afternoon, I see babushkas (grandmothers or anyone who looks over 60), sitting and chatting with one another. I am told that they often spend hours recalling the old day. “Do you remember this?” “Da (yes), do you remember when...”
As the weeks progressed, I noticed small gardens popping up every where. On the side of an apartment, a woman turns the soil. She carefully works around the early spring tulips and daffodils. On the buses, I see men caring small shrubs and trees. I spied a few lilac and maybe cherry trees. Near my apartment, old tires are painted purple being turned into planters for lilly of the valley and hostas. I am charmed.
Ukrainian people love gardening. I love gardening too. I am feeling my first pangs of home-sickness - not because I am unhappy, but because I miss my garden. Sounds silly, but I am sure many understand especially my padrugas (friends), Ilene and Patti and Domenica. We would always get together to swap our various ideas for this year's “better than ever” garden. I will miss those times.
Now my house is sold and I am in Ukraine.
Today my cluster went to a Dasha. A Dasha is a country kitchen and garden. Many Ukrainians
go out to their Dasha to plant vegetable and maybe a few flowers. They have weekly outings to tend the “sod” (garden) and then harvest the produce
Ukrainians tend to be seasonal in their vegetable eating. When I go into a grocery store, I am reminded of Patman's in my boyhood. Warren and Pete, do you recall? Can goods lined the shelves behind the counter and a small area in the corner held the available produce for the season. Right now in Ukraine sorrel is available and I am enjoying “green” borscht.
The Dasha that we visited belonged to a famous Ukrainian writer of the late 19th century. Michael Katsoobinski wrote about the sorrow and pain of this life urging his people to not be passive in their living but to grasp each day for freedom. While he was writing, his wife tended a wonderful garden. Imagine the inspiration. Now it is a historical site managed by his great great grandson.
I may not be able to have a garden this year, but you can be sure that by the time next year rolls around and “April showers bring May flower”, I will have a small Ukrainian sod!! Somewhere! Somehow!
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