Garden, meet the Slavs

When we moved to Dalboki, the land was in bad shape. There was so much work to be done it was eye-watering and spine-chilling.

Irina: My dad spent the last ten years of his life here but due to his age he could no longer care for the place. My stepmum did her best but she worked full-time as well and everyone has limits.

When my dad died, she moved to the city because she was afraid to live at the cottage alone, so for a couple of years the only care the place got was from our occasional visits because Sofia is 200 km away and we couldn’t pop in and out of the place every weekend.

Cris: It was a mess. Completely overgrown. Grass and bushes everywhere. Just thinking about it now gives me muscle cramps.

Irina: So we bought a brushcutter.

Cris: YES.

Irina: He was like a regular Hercules with the brushcutter, the garden starring as the Augean Stables.

Cat: I remember Dad going into the bushes with the cutter. He looked scary.

Cris: It was backbreaking but very satisfying. There’s still a lot of work to do with all the dead trees that need to be taken down but the hardest part is over.

Irina: There will always be work to do, it’s a garden. And now it looks like one.

Cris: Not yet but we’re getting there.

One of the adult Slavs is a perfectionist. The other takes things easy. Spot the perfectionist and the one who rolls her eyes at him.

In 2014, the garden looked like this.

Yes, the flowers in the flower patch are lovely and there’s all this lush greenery behind Cat… and that’s just it. It was nearly impenetrable, not to mention undesirable for penetration because of ticks.

In 2023, the garden looks like this.

And like this

As you will notice, the space in front of the house is a bit messy but that’s how works in progress look when done by people whose primary concern is getting the work done instead of caring what others would think about the in-progress state of it.

Also, in case you find the first picture’s colours a lot more vibrant than the two latter ones, be informed that it was made in late May, while the other two were made in February and April, respectively. With a different phone, too. End of unasked for justifications.

Irina: Front and centre in the last picture is the potential rose bush I couldn’t resist buying from the supermarket because it was so lonely and also so discounted. Hopefully it will survive.

Next to it is my third attempt at growing cilantro. The two previous ones sprouted, grew unsistainably long stalks, which eventually broke and the plants died. Now I’ve invested in special soil so it has to work.

Cat: What was cilantro for?

Irina: The falafels you can eat every day.

Cat: Oh, cool. And we’re also growing chickpeas, right?

Irina: Right. It’s called self-sufficiency. Remember the word.

Cris: Yeah, we’ve done a bit of work since we started spending more time here and now it’s getting easier because I don’t have to try and cram as much work as I can inside two days before we leave again.

Irina: And yet you still try. “A bit of work”?! You’ve done tonnes of work.

Cris: Oh, well, not tonnes. But a fair bit, yeah.

Cat: You cleared the whole garden and all those bushes. And now you’re ploughing. Why didn’t you mention the ploughing machine?

Cris: The cultivator. And the chainsaw. They do a good job.

Irina: Chainsaws terrify me but I can’t argue with that. And thanks to the cultivator I can have real garden beds instead of having to improvise after you do the best you can with the shovel.

The beds are now a fact and so are their new contents and planned contents, currently in the form of seedlings. Some will survive. Others will not. There are some major vegetable-growing ambitions brewing here.

Irina: I don’t want to sound New Agey but I think the land feels happier. Not that it can feel but you know what I mean.

Cris: It definitely looks neater and I dealt with the old man’s beard, so that’s a win.

Irina: The old man’s beard in case you’re as botanically challenged as I used to be, is a horribly intrusive vine. I hear it has medicinal properties but for once in my life I couldn’t care less. It was everywhere and now it’s not and there’s space for other life forms.

Spoiler: We did not deal with the old man’s beard. It will take years to deal with it in a final way. But we’re not giving up.

Cat: When are we planting the chestnuts?

Cris: Whenever you pick a place for them.

Irina: Say what you will, the land feels happier when it’s being tended, I’m sure of it.