I'm not an angel, but I was there

Sunday, 23 November 2008

The calm morning surprised me with a bright sun and a fresh air. The house was suffused with light. Everything around corresponded to my inner mood.

It was the best time to prepare our two garden fountains for the winter. The trick here has two steps: first - to stop the turn-clock placed in an underground hole and second - to drain the water in the water-pipe between the turn-clock and the tap. In that way the fountains we'll be protected from the freezing.

The first fountain was ok, but I had troubles with the second. The tap is demaged, said my father who is my private adviser too. After many efforts, finally I found a temporary decision.

But surely in the spring I'll clear my accounts with that fountain. I already have some ideas on this and later I'll share them with you.

I took a breath and then I started something new for me - The Oleander epos.

Usually the people in Haskovo plant their oleanders in used metal boxes for cheese. The last spring I planted four oleanders in the garden. They grew up and bloomed very well. Now I tried to insulate the plants against the low winter temperatures.

The result is strange, but funny. My mother helpped me to wrap the oleanders with old cloths. Then we wrapped the plants again - that way with nylons, and finally we binded fast the nylons with knitted fabrics of different colors.

Is the Christo the only one who wrap the things?
No, now we're two :)

Now the oleanders look like an avantgard art. Both in the gardening and the wrapping I own an unique style, a scent of immediate aestetic, an imagination and a creative power, but the critics just don't know me.
In Sofia there's a monument of the poetry. In my garden there's a monument of the ... they look like... well, if you have some suggestions or analogies with these covered oleanders, you can give me some free ideas in the comments section.

Wrapped oleanders

Later I closed the gaps in the treliss-vine's construction with silicon. After that I went on the roof. There I made some good things and took nice pictures.

Look to the yard

On that photo you see a part of the garage (in left), a part of the garden with the wrapped oleanders and and our summer house (and old building which we use as a store).

The garden - a closer view

A view to the surrounding houses

The local kinder garden

I love my day... Maybe soon you'll see puctures of an winter garden.

Time to say Goodbye... Happiness is the Road

Monday, 17 November 2008

My weekend was separated in two parts.

Part 1

The Saturday was cloudy and I prepared the garden for the winter. The leading voice said with the words of Andrea Bocelli and Sarah Brightman: "Time to say Goodbye".


I decorate the garden with some pots, creating nice ensembles. They lay or stand among the plants. My great pottery is a treasure for the graden. But now I cleaned the pots and I put them in the summer house. Six numbers - here they are. I felt a little sadness to part with them, but I know it's in the order of the things, it's a part from the circle of the life. I'll take them out when the snows melt and the spring bloosoms.

The six pots

Even the phlegmatic face of the autumn has its beauty. I used the chance to take few photos of the blooming autumn chrysanthemums .

The old boxshrub

Part 2

The Sunday was sunny and brighter. The main refrain in my day was Marillion's new album. For me "Happiness is the Road" is the best progressive rock album of the year. When I worked, when I made some things, I said to myself that the work is happiness.

The wall finished with plaster

I plastered the outside wall of the yard with mortar, and I sticked few stones in the small closed garden in the northwest corner of my estate. The music of the labour was triumphant in my head, but finally I remained with conviction, that the good rest is a happiness too.

My mother - the chief director, the Iron Lady of the family

Later my march with Lydia gave me more complete meaning on the idea that the road is happiness.

This year's clipping campaign

Tuesday, 4 November 2008

I go where I want go and I stay where I want stay. I can de everything I want to, but I know that I'll never run from my roots. I will never hide from my family's past and I'll always bring it in me. I admit that the traditions, the history, the taste and the manners of my family made a seal on my thinknig and behavior. For good and for bad.

As my ancestors were sophisticated farmers, my childhood was predicted to be related with the physical work and the land.

I am grateful for all I have learned from my grandfather Georgi. I don't mean some special skills - I mean thе feeling of love to the trees, the ground, the natural food and wine and the simple life.

I am also thankful to my father who teached me how to do different things. He gave me his will, knowledge and know-how in various areas.

When I work in my garden, I have both emotional and rational experience. In fact, my wishes are still stronger than my abilities, but I'm an optimist: I believe that bit by bit, I'll reach the balance.

Armed with that combination of mighty willing and growing skills, I take care about my trellis vine. When I exert efforts, the vines repay to me with beautifil grapes. Few days ago I was surprised. Until I worked at my job, my untiring mother picked the grapes and now it was my turn to take the baton.

And like every golden autumn my heart plays the elegant and sweet song of the grapevine's clipping. A quiet joy fills my body and my soul, I take the clipper and I start... Yes, there's no mistake. In distinction with the other people, my family clips the vine branches in the autumn, not in the spring season. You ask why? I find at least two reasons:

1. We clip the vine-stocks before the leafs start falling. In that way we save the daily sweeping of the yard during the season.
2. We give a chance to the sun rays to light up and warm up the south rooms of the house's ground floor (especially the living room and the bedroom), which the trellis vine keeps in shadow and coolness in the summer. The new season requires a new strategy :)

... the history of our trelissed vine - that's the story of few generations. The years go by, new vines replace the superannuated and a younger hand takes the clipper, but the story remains the same - the men of the family care about the vine-arbour.

This year's clipping campaign passed like the previous one. First my father in the role of a military general inspected the location of the available resources - a step-ladder, a clipper and a human power. When he found that everything is ready for the attack, i.e. there're a standing step-ladder, a clipper on the table and two soldiers prepared to fight (mama and me), he undertook the beginning action. Daddy did mount the ladder and did cut few vine-twigs, explaining how much buds must leave on every branch.

Daddy in action

"Let's see what I can do here" I said to myself. The clipping area was like a large river to swim. I didn't want to stay on the beach! Take the clipper, take the mood - you will cope because you're good!

Daddy leaves the position. Mom is always like a loyal soldier by him

We changed our places and initially Daddy, in the role of mentor, observed me from below.

Of course, he made deserved remarks on the technique and the tactics of my performance, but after few minutes on the sly he went to drowse in his bed :)

Hey, Daddy knows that it's not my first vine-arbour's clipping! I know what to do. I'm the young prince of the kingdom! In few hours my yard recieved a new look.

Before...

... and after

Dates from the backyard

Monday, 20 October 2008

There's a tree in my backyard. An old tree with shiny-green, fine and slender leaves that I remember from my childhood.

I know that my grandfather Georgi planted it more than 50 years ago. Even in that honorable age, it's high just about 5 metres. My family supposed that it's a relative of the palm trees, but from Wikipedia I learned that its botanical name is Ziziphus ziziphus, also known as Jujube or Chinise Date. Some people here call it with the strange not local name hinap.

Hinap - view from below

Trees, belonging to the same species, grow in Haskovo and in the areas south from our city, like towns of Svilengrad and Ivaylovgrad, but also it's possible to find some specimens northern far from Haskovo.

Every autumn our hinap-tree gives to us its ripe brown sweet fruits. Initially green and hard, bit by bit they become more mellow, their colour changes and the pulp is softer.

I pick them and my mother saves them in a dry place, so we have wonderful dry fruits during the winter months.

Like the rose, protecting its beautiful blossoms, the hinap-tree keep its taste fruits with sharp thorns. I have personal experience - believe me, they're truely thorny :) But I now that the result deserve that price!

All you need is just a little patience, be calm and do your work carefully and finally you'll be satisfied with these divine gifts of the nature!

Sometimes I eat the fruits raw and sometimes I put few of them in my tea. The combination of hinap and herbs makes a really interesting blend.

A cup of hinap fruits