A Magical Little Surprise in the Garden

A few weeks ago, after a week of rain, we went out into the garden on an overcast day to play and do some weeding. I looked at our little flower garden and saw amongst all of the weeds, these little plants. Something inside of me said, "Those are not weeds!" But we didn't know what they were, so I began to pluck them out. I was surprised to find that their roots were fairly short. We had laid down compost and soil, so if they had short roots, they were growing in what we had put down. We reasoned that the seeds must have blown in and quickly taken root.

But then, I noticed this! On top of some of the little plants were squash seeds! At some point in the fall, we had tossed all old squash into the compost without thinking. And now, our compost is basically planting its own garden! I shared this little bit of magic with my students who loved the idea that we will have squash in the fall. We separated the plants a bit so that they will have more space to grow. Who needs a flower garden when you have an accidental squash garden?

The First Snow!

It's hard for me, in this blog, to not just let pictures do the talking. I take so many and that's how I documented Korea, but I am committed to actually writing this time. When people ask me my hobbies, I am so hesitant to say that I write. I don't write books, I don't write stories. I write blogs and journals and letters. But I do so with such fervor and dedication. Tweets can take me up to 20 minutes to perfect. A seven sentence LJ post might take the better part of an evening. So it's kind of ironic that in the last post, I was preaching the values of non-verbal communication when words are of such importance to me. I guess you have to find the proper balance.

Yesterday was the first snow in Kolín. I grant you that it did not accumulate, but it did snow most of the day and at times it was quite difficult to see. My camera did not capture it well because the snowflakes melted on the lens, but above was my walk to work. I cross this river every day, next to the oldest power plant in the CR. I've only lived places where I could walk to a fairly substantial body of water (the Long Island Sound, Connecticut River, Sincheon, Lake Champlain) if you don't count those few months in DeKalb. I guess it shouldn't be surprising because civilizations tend to spring up near bodies of water. But I don't understand how one could live without one.

You can kind of see the flurries in this picture of the corner near school. Since the weather hasn't been so agreeable, we've only been taking walks around the block instead of going to the park before lunch. On yesterday's walk, the little ones spent a lot of time sticking out their tongues and trying to catch snowflakes. It wasn't hard because the flakes were big globs of snow. I wished that I remembered the words to that Barney song, all I could remember was the part about rain, not the part about snow. I tried to make up my own in my head, If all the snowflakes were sugar-cubes and honey-cakes were the best I came up with. (As it turns out, it is "If all the snowflakes were candy bars and milkshakes" but I kind of like honey-cakes better, even if it doesn't fit the meter.)

Every morning, we put up the day and weather on this calendar that I designed. I'm pretty proud of it, and also the fact that it helped me learn the ever-so-useful Czech word suhízip, or Velcro. The kids love doing the weather. "Is it... sunny out?" "Nooooooo!" I had to take a picture of October 15th, the weather is snowy.

It had stopped snowing for part of the day and I was sad to take a train to Prague in the rain. But as we passed the fields and small villages that cover the 50 or so miles between Kolín and Prague, the rain turned back into snow! While most people wouldn't count that as a change for the better, I relished it. I opened the window to the bitter cold and stuck my head outside to snap a photo. Rain is so dreary and depressing, but snow always feels hopeful to me. There, is of course, the nostalgia of playing in snow as a child and the thought that with snow comes Christmas, but there's more to it than that. While rain assaults you, burrowing through your layers and soaking you to the core, snow tends to just land on top and you can easily brush it off. You only end up a little damp from snow, instead of completely soaked. Also, rain adds to the noise of city life, while snow muffles the sounds. Everything is so peaceful and quiet in the snow. With the first snow in this little town, I can honestly say that I am so happy to be here. I don't want to go home. This is the first time since I graduated that I have actually liked a place I've lived, no less loved it.

I think I am going to be spending a long time looking like this. Totally content in my little compartment on the train, imagining each new day on this adventure.

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Fall On the Sincheon

This weekend I spent a lot of time wandering around by the Sincheon River. It seemed like the rest of Daegu did as well. There were families playing, people biking, couples sharing headphones, old men lying in the grass, children playing basketball. Everyone was in full fall reverie.
This is the direction of Apsan, which you can see in the distance. I generally walk the other way.

Under the big bridge near my apartment.

Still nearby. That sign up ahead says something about otters. I was on otter patrol all weekend; I have yet to see one.

The birds love man-made waterfalls.

Just stuff growing in the water.

View from under a weeping willow.

Foliage on the trees lining the road. I also love the lamp post.

I love the colors this bush is changing, as well as it's beautiful red berries. It looks like the transformation of fall into winter.

Neverthless, there are flowers everywhere! I cannot believe how many flowers there are! It's mid-November and they continue to bloom.

The river had a lot of man-made features, like fountains that change and make pretty shapes.

Fountain on the left with Apsan in the background.

I call this section "the birds of Daegu."

The huge flock of pigeons was not deterred by bikers or pedestrians. They remind me of New York pigeons and made me a little homesick.

More fountains.

I love when ivy changes colors, so beautiful!

This train bridge had some really beautiful designs on it.

Yellow flowers in November are one thing, but look at the purple! I still can't believe it. I've got many more pictures of the neighborhood that I should post later.

Chapter Ten: An Independent Journey to Duryu

And now for something completely different: I will do a food blog sometime soon, but today's is all nature. It's probably very self-indulgent and more like a journal than anything I've done so far. Most of it will be taken from a journal entry I wrote while at the top of the hill in Duryu park. You've been warned. Edit: I found out that yesterday was Mountain Day back home. Luckily, I had the day off myself and spent it on top of a hill. It makes the missing-Smith feeling a little easier.

I'm at the top of a hill in Duryu Park overlooking the Woobang Towerland amusement park. I was feeling particularly down today. I thought I would stay home in bed all day. While trolling the interent, I re-discovered an expat wiki that had a lot about Daegu. I saw pictures of Woobang Towerland and that it as next to a park. I looked at the subway map and saw how easy it was to get to. Put on pants then pack my backpack with a Larabar, bottle of water, notebook, and my camera. I put on my adventure Sauconys and put my Ipod on.

I pick the album "Not a Pretty Girl" because it is somehow, to me, about a solitary adventure. It's been eight years since I used to listen to it on the walk to the bus stop, but it still has that feeling for me. Walking alone, inside of my own head. I was talking to Morgan the other day about how much this time in my life feels like early adolescence. There is so much out there to discover and I'm really able to do it on my own now. I guess that's what the album is about to me.

I head to the subway, passing more bizarre Daegu (chicken on a leash) and take the train the five stops here. Everyone stares, as usual. I listen to my music, try to stay in my head, don't let it make me turn back. When I arrive, I look at the exit maps and find my way to the park. The trails twist and turn. There are many dirt paths that I pass up to follow the stone.

It's beautiful and safe.

I'm still a little worried about getting lost.

I get to the end of a low path and decide "up!"

So I climb. Another stopping point. "Up!" I choose. It's not very steep. I'm enjoying the stretch. The feeling of rocks and tree roots under my feet.

Where am I made for? The beach or harbor where I grew up? The forests I played in? The hills of Western Mass? The city where I will always feel free? I'm getting that sense of endless possibilities again. I love the world. I love being everywhere. I keep climbing.






When I get to the top, I see a clearing with so few trees. It reminds me of Ovid. I'm alone. No one on Earth has any idea where I am right now; I am kind of liking it. I click off more photos. Some Koreans walk by, "안녕하세요" says one kind woman. "Anyounghaseo," I reply. The album isn't even over yet! How could such a wonderful journey from my apartment door to the top of this hill happen in the space of one Ani DiFranco album?

I decide to take a few self-portraits in the Korean style. I've got so few pictures of myself in Korea.

I don't just want to rememer this precipice, but also being here.

I sit down, drink my water, and begin to log my thoughts.

I can hear people shouting from the amusement park. I think next time I'll give it a try. I'm in love with this park, this city, the world right now. Maybe I'll bring someone for a picnic next time. Or maybe I'll just keep it for myself.




This hilltop forest looks the same as any forest in New York or Massachusetts. Some different trees, but essentially the same. Why do I always expect every other country to have things so different that it might as well be another world?

A korean man comes and does some exercise. I click photos. He sees me. I act casual and take photos of everything around me.

Should I stay until sunset to take more photos? I think it will be pretty but my camera doesn't do well with dusk.

I climb down.

In the distance, you can see the Tower of Woobang Towerland.

Some sort of monument.

Today is a long weekend for National Foundation Day. Korean flags are everywhere.

I'm not sure what this is, but it's beautiful.

If you look closely, you can see that the pattern on the stones is actually hearts.

All around the park there were people playing what might be Go. Mostly old men, like the ones who play chess at home. I decide to head home.