C.with the hope that we will be able to return peacefully to the garden and terrace as soon as possible, we share this short reading with you: March of the gardeneradapted from The year of the gardener by Karel ČapekSellerio Publisher.
The year of Karel Čapek’s gardener. Sellerio publisher
March is a month of great frenzy for enthusiastsi, nurserymen and growers, alas, however, sometimes we have to deal with frost, return of cold and also, last but not least, what happens around us. If we are to describe the gardener’s March truthfully and on the basis of ancient experiences, we are required first of all to accurately distinguish two things:
A) what the gardener needs and wants to do, and B) what he actually doesnot being able to accomplish more.
A) So what he wants, passionately and relentlessly, goes without saying: he just wants to remove the mulch of coniferous needles and put the plants in the open, dig, fertilize, till, hoe, breakmove, rake, level, wet, multiply, take cuttings, prune, plant, transplant, tie, water, add fertilizer, weed, fill, sow, clean, cut, drive away sparrows and blackbirds, smell the soil, dig the shoots with your fingers, cheer in the snowdrops in bloom, wipe your sweat, arch your back, eat like a wolf and drink like a sponge, go to bed with the spade and get up with the lark, glorify the sun and the drizzle of the sky, feel the hard shoots, cultivate the first corns and the first spring blisters, and absolutely live in the garden abundantly, spring, airy.
B) Instead of doing all this, swear why the ground is always, or again, frozen, raging in the house like a captive lion in a cage, when the garden is covered with snow, he sits by the stove with a cold, is forced to go to the dentist, has a court appearance, receives a visit from an aunt, a great-grandchild or who knows what grandmother, in short, he loses a day after another, haunted by all the hassles, tricks of fate, chores and possible adversities, which accumulate as if on purpose in the month of March; since you think that “March is the busiest month in the garden, which must be prepared for the arrival of spring”.
The gardener torn between cold and enthusiasm
Well yes, only as a gardener does man appreciate those rather trite sayings, such as “implacable cold”, “obstinate north wind”, “Ferocious frost” and other poetic invectives; he too uses even more poetic expressions, saying that this year winter is monstrous, damned, lost, filthy, cursed and hellish; unlike poets, he not only complains of the north wind, but also of evil westerly winds, and he curses freezing snowstorms no less than devious and insidious frosts. And prone to flowery expressions, such as “winter defends itself from the attacks of spring”, and he feels beyond measure humbled that in this battle he can in no way help to defeat and kill the tyrannical winter. If he could attack him with a spade or a spade, with a rifle or a halberd, he would arm himself and go into battle, shouting victoriously; but he can do nothing but wait every night on the radio for the war bulletin of the National Meteorological Service, cursing fiercely against the high pressure area on Scandinavia or the intense disturbance on Iceland; because we gardeners know where the wind blows.
The proverbs of the gardener
For us gardeners popular predictions have an equally certain value; we still believe that “San Matteo saw ice”, and if it does not, we wait for Saint Joseph, the celestial carpenter to cut it; we know that “In March, I’ll place behind the stove”, and we believe the three ice saints, the spring equinox, the hood of St.Medard and other similar predictions, from which it is clear that people since ancient times have bad experiences with the weather. It would be no wonder if it were said that “On May 1st the snow on the roof hides” or that “in San Nepomuceno your hands and nose freeze” or that “in San Cyril and Methodius the water in the well freezes” and that “In San Wenceslao one cold ends and another arrives”, in short, popular predictions mostly prophesy ominous and dark things. Therefore, know that the existence of gardeners, who, despite these bad experiences with time, one year after another welcome and celebrate the beginning of spring, testifies to the immortal and miraculous optimism of mankind.
The gardener and the “Ancient witnesses”
The man who became a gardener likes to associate with the Old Witnesses. These are elderly and somewhat distracted people, who every spring say they don’t remember such a spring. If it’s cold, they declare that they don’t remember such a frosty spring: “Once, sixty years ago, it was so hot that violets bloomed at Candlemas.” Conversely, if it is a little warmer, the Witnesses say they do not remember such a hot spring: “Once, sixty years ago, we went sledding in St. Joseph’s.” In short, even from the statements of the Ancient Witnesses it is clear that, as far as the weather is concerned, unbridled will dominates in our climate and that there is nothing to be done against it.
Yes, there is nothing to be done; it is mid-March, and there is still snow in the frozen garden.
May God have mercy on the gardener’s plants.
I will not reveal the secret of how gardeners recognize each other, whether by smell, with a password or with a secret sign; but the fact is that they recognize each other at first sight, whether it is in the corridor of a theater, at a tea room or in the dentist’s waiting room; with the first sentence they pronounce they exchange their views on the weather (“no, sir, I really don’t remember such a spring”), then they move on to the question of rain, dahlias, chemical fertilizers, a Dutch lily (“Curse, what’s your name, yes, it’s all the same, I’ll give you the bulb”), strawberries, American catalogs, the damage that this year’s cold has perpetrated, lice, asters and other similar topics . It is only an appearance that they are two men in tuxedos in the corridor of a theater; in the deepest and most authentic reality they are two gardeners with hoe and watering can in hand.
When your watch stops, you take it apart and then take it to the watchmaker; when someone stops the car, he raises the hood and sticks his fingers in the engine, then he calls the mechanic. With everything in the world it is possible to do something, everything can be fixed and reformed, but against the clock nothing can be done. No zeal or megalomania, no innovation, neither curiosity nor blasphemy helps; the bud opens and the sprout sprouts, when it is imposed by their time and by their law.
So with humility you realize the impotence of man; understand that patience is the mother of wisdom … After all, there is nothing to be done
If you haven’t, you can book this delightful little book, also handy because it’s pocket-sized, at the Libreria della Natura. In the meantime, at the beginning of each month, we will anticipate that month’s passions, deadlines and activities: we are sure that many of us will recognize ourselves.
Where to find the Year of the Gardener
Nature Library
via Maiocchi, 11
20129 Milan (Mi)
tel. 02.48003159
[email protected]
www.libreriadellanatura.com
reference: Valentina Romano
In the photos, two blooms of these days photographed in the woods of Brianza: the beautiful and cerulean scilla silvestre, Scilla bifolia and the shrill dogwood, Cornus mas.
iO Donna © REPRODUCTION RESERVED