English Practice Time

Hi, Ya'll. This Heather. Wasn't it nice of her to agree send a message to you?
What can I say? She is a Georgian.

Community Garden Plots

Not everyone likes to garden and those who do tend a garden like it for differing reasons. The yards around the houses here on the island are about the same size as the house gardens in Zabovresky, and like in Brno, there is a community garden with plots that residents can rent by the year to grow vegetables, fruits, flowers and herbs. The plots are about 4 meters by 8-9 meters. They are not separated from each other by fences and don't have building structures on them, but there is normal garden architecture like trellises for running vines and espaliered fruit trees, wood frames for raised beds, and scarecrows and decorative statues like gnomes and saints and frogs. No one here camps out in the gardens, though there is a little area called "Palmetto Room" with barely functional tables and chairs tucked just inside the little wood at the south end of the garden. I have never seen anyone in there. My parents have two plots this year. For them, the sole purpose of their garden is to grow food to eat now and to freeze for the winter. Others rent their plots for fruit and herbs and/or flowers or to have a quiet place to sit. One woman even plants a 'memorial garden' in honor of her mother, though much to the chagrin of my own mother and of others, the daughter never harvests the vegetables. So for her, I suppose, the pleasure is in making the garden, tending it, and accepting nothing from it. On the way to the garden last week Thomas suggested that you might enjoy some photos of the community garden here. Since I derived so much pleasure from going to the gardens with Lenka in Brno, I agreed. So, here are a few images for you.

A Noticing Trip

Before we saw the headline in today's paper announcing a 60% decline in sea turtle nests on Jekyll Island, Thomas and I spotted a turtle in the canal when we were returning from the garden. We fetched Bram from the house and spent a long time doing some noticing from the footbridge. "Noticing trips" is something we have always done with Bram; it involves going outside and and paying attention to what we see. Thinking about it is a must. Talking about it isn't necessary, nor is the sketching that usually follows it, but what is the value of joy if it can't be shared?
This morning we were all heartened to see how abundant and healthy the life in and around the canal is. We watched the giant bullfrog tadpoles, which Bram says are "the wonder of [his] world these days" and tiny minnows make rings in a reflected sky, listened to the sounds of breezes and birds and bees and to the intermittent bellowing of a lone bullfrog, out of sync with the other frogs who won't "sing" until dusk. "He's got jet lag," one of us said, as a jet took off across the field. As the morning heated up, we saw more and more dragonflies, in electrified blues and chili pepper reds as they skirted the banks and rode swaying reeds. I guess most people would call this kind of experience "enjoying simple pleasures," yet neither the things we saw nor the pleasure we took in them were 'simple.'

Are You HOT?

At time of posting CURRENT TEMPERATURE = 30 Celsius, HUMIDITY = 75%, HUMIDEX = 41 Celsius

No, this isn't a question about your looks. I am quite serious here, though I have seen the temperatures from Central Europe and I already know the answer. It has been as hot in Brno lately as it is here, in South Georgia, and I am a bit worried about how my friends are managing. The Heat Index makes the temperatures dangerous even for those accustomed to such weather. So for the benefit of my dear sweet ones from cooler climes, I am going to share some tips for keeping cool. I grew up in middle Georgia where the average highs for July and August are in the nineties (usually 30-35 Celsius) and it is almost always humid, too, which means that it feels a lot hotter than it actually is, so I am used to the hot humid weather (and actually like it). Our house wasn't always air conditioned, nor were the schools I attended for the first eight years. Only a few of the buildings where I attended college had AC, and the classrooms which did had such noisy window units that they had to be turned off during class. None of my grandparents houses were air conditioned, and when my great grandmother who died at age 98 in 1999, her house still had no AC. My point? I am born and bred to manage the heat, and since some of my Czech friends were kind enough to share with me the lowdown on staying warm in the cold and snow to which they were born and bred, I am returning the favor, by offering my advice for surviving the heat.

1. Move slowly. Do everything slowly. There's a reason why a southern accent is called a drawl, and the hot temperatures here have a lot to do with it. We even talk slowly.
2. Drink lots of cold water, and avoid alcohol and caffeinated drinks, since they tend to dehydrate you.
3. Use an electric fan. Fanning yourself with a hand fan will only increase your body temperature.
4. Get wet. Wipe your face and arms, and whatever other parts of you that you want to, with a damp cloth, take a cool (not cold) shower, go swimming.
5. Freeze partially filled water bottles (neperliva works best). You can sip the cold water as the ice melts, and while you are waiting for the ice to melt,
6. apply the frozen bottle to your wrists, forehead and neck. Or just wipe the condesation from the bottle and use the cloth to wipe your face, etc.
7. Wear thin, loose-fitting cotton clothes, put your hair up ( I like to keep my wet), and do without the jewelry.

Yard Saling (Sale-ing)

This is a post about a very common weekend activity here which my parents call 'yard saling.' Basically, it involves one family or group of persons placing all of their unwanted personal possessions outside their house, into their garage and/or driveway and yard for other people to come by and peruse and to buy for ridiculously little money. The first time I heard them refer to their hobby of going to garage sales as 'yard saling,' I got a sudden image of both of my parents standing like surfers balanced on their boards, arms out, hair blown back from their faces, and I had to smile. When my fellow countrymen and women decide to rid themselves of the their current collection of capitalistic excesses, they often hold a garage (or yard) sale. Whether it is called a garage sale or a yard sale usually has little to do with whether the goods are sold from the garage or the yard. It's purely a matter of personal speech habits or whatever happens to be on the available store-bought signs.

To hold a yard sale, one goes through one's personal possessions and chooses what one no longer wants, places an advertisement in the local paper, places prices on stickers on the items themselves or on signs on the boxes or tables that hold them. ANYTHING can and is sold at yard sales. I have seen eyeglasses, paint, toilet plungers, tools, motorcycle parts, make-up (ick), dishes, building supplies and bikes, old family photos(!), medicines, and once, groceries! Prices are extremely low, usually from as little as 10 cents (about 2Kc) to just under $20 (500Kc),except for some furniture or autos, depending entirely on the whim of the seller. My parents once bought a good car for my brother for $100.


As all of these sales begin early usually on Saturday mornings at 7 or 8, it is important to get an early start to catch the best bargains. Mercifully, how one dresses for this actvity is unimportant. In fact, casual and unkempt is the norm, and it is not unusual for women to go without their make-up or for anyone to be still clutching their morning mug of coffee. It is interesting to see how happy it makes some people to get rid of their junk and how equally thrilled other people are to pay for it, and to watch all of the people involved. As they say, "One man's trash is another man's treasure." We went to eleven such sales on Saturday and among the things we returned with were some 'silk' flowers, a cashmere sweater (for 50 cents--10 Kc), some books, and a pair of crutches which were Bram's purchase. He likes to play on them. Go figure. When we returned, I gathered up a few bags of my own things which I will donate to Goodwill. Even though I could make a good bit of money if I held a yard sale of my own, I confess that I am both too lazy to do the work to have one. But after reading that the average profit for a one weekend yard sale is about $600, it is very likely that I will soon find a way to overcome my laziness. I would be thrilled with half that. Who knew my junk might be so valuable?

The 4th of July