 |
| This is only one of the terraces in the garden. |
Welcome to MaY MEMOIR!
Day 5
For the entire month of May, I'll be sharing part of each chapter from my memoir, Ca va? Stories from Rural Life in Southern France.
Christophe has an enormous vegetable garden, which in the summer, requires a lot of work. Actually, it is quite stunning and often the only green patch found in the blazing summer. He often has over a hundred tomato plants, around 40 eggplants, a half a dozen zucchini plants, and a hand full of squash. There’s more, but the sheer number here should give you an idea of how big this garden is, and oh –yeah, it’s terraced, so hauling around the filled 20 pound watering can also means climbing steps. I’ve gotten used to the task, but the first time I attempted to help, I was completely flabbergasted.
Chapter 4: Garden Chores
After we have gathered what we wanted from the garden, Christophe turns his attention towards an old zinc washing tub filled with water and a watering can next to it.
“It needs to be watered everyday”, Christophe tells me.
“I could do that when you’re at work”, I reply. “Where is the sprinkler?”
“There is no sprinkler”, Christophe says. “I water it by hand.”
“By hand!” I exclaim very surprised. “Why do you do that? Wouldn’t a sprinkler be easier?”
“No, it wouldn’t work here”, he replies. “If I watered with a sprinkler, there would be massive evaporation, which is bad for the soil. I water in the evening with a watering can so I can target just the vegetables. This way, I use less water, but it is more productively used.”
“And you do that every night?” I say still shocked and now worried about my offer to water the garden.
“Yes, every night. But you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I didn’t invite you here to water the garden”, he says with a smile.
Not wanting to be a freeloader and simply sit back and watch Christophe water the garden after a long day’s work, I say, “No, I’ll help; it’s the least I can do. What do you do?”
“I submerge the watering can in the tub and water the plants from this”, he says. “Here, I need to turn the water on.”
Christophe turns the spigot and water trickles out. The trickle quickly explodes as the water pressure changes and a shot of water shoots out like a canon into the tub below. It then quickly falls back to a constant stream.
“The water here is a mountain source”, he explains. “So the water pressure cannot be controlled like in a city. This is another reason a sprinkler won’t work.”
“I see the hose, but where is it connected to the house?” I ask while examining the system he has set up.
“It’s not. It comes from the village water tank up on the hill. The hose runs through the garden and up the hill for about a mile. It is part of the old irrigation system I rebuilt when I worked for the village. I hooked a hose up to the tower to catch the overflow. Since it is a natural source, there is no way to turn off the water, so it overflowed often. When the tank was full, the water would spill over, run down the hill, and end up in a neighbor’s basement. This system prevents that. Now, the extra water runs through this hose, down to the river, and eventually out to the sea. It’s like that hole in a bathroom sink that prevents water from spilling everywhere”, he explains.
“That’s pretty convenient setting that up for yourself”, I say teasing him.
“I didn’t own this house at the time I rebuilt it”, he says innocently. “I was renting an apartment. The previous owner gave permission to run a hose through her land. It wasn’t until years later when she sold me the house that I even thought about using this as a watering system. I just got lucky at how that worked.”
We look down and watch the zinc tub fill up. Christophe grabs a watering can and plunges it into the water. Lifting it out, he walks over to a plant and lets the water gently cascade out and onto the foot of the plant.
“If you water the plants, try not to get their leaves wet”, he says. “When wet, they tend to stick to the ground and get burned by the sun.”
“How long does this take you?” I ask looking over the rows of tomato plants and the creeping vines of the squash.
“About an hour; it depends on my mood,” he says as he bends down and pulls out a few weeds that have found their way in.
I look around and find another watering can. Picking it up, I head back to the zinc tub and submerge it in the water. Heaving it out, I realize full it weights at least 20 pounds. Christophe gingerly walks with one can, full, swinging it back and forth in one hand, not at all phased by the weight, but I am unbalanced and waddle my way to the closest plant.
Christophe laughs. “Don’t fill the can up all the way if you can’t carry it.”
“I can carry twenty pounds” I say in my defense. “I’m just not used to carrying it like this.” Referring to the water can dangling low from my arm.
I empty part of the can as water splashes over the side onto a single plant.
“How much water do they need?” I ask Christophe who is on the terrace above me.
“On average, 5 plants can be watered with one full watering can. In your case, maybe three”, he says while teasing me.
I smile, but look around at the number of plants that surround us and I am quickly humbled.
“How many plants do you have?” I ask.
“It varies from year to year”, he says looking around the garden. “This year, I think I have about 80 tomato plants, 10 zucchini plants, 40 eggplants, 100 sweet onions, 5 squash, and then there are the berries and cooking herbs.”
My head is spinning trying to do the math and then divide by three as I figure out how many watering cans that will be.
Christophe smiles, “It does rain sometimes, and then we don’t have to water”. Then he pauses, “Just sometimes”.
No comments:
Post a Comment