Showing posts with label september. Show all posts
Showing posts with label september. Show all posts

Sep 2, 2016

Try to remember the kind of September....


When life was slow and oh, so mellow
Try to remember the kind of September
When grass was green and grain was yellow
Try to remember the kind of September
When you were a tender and callow fellow
Try to remember and if you remember
Then follow, follow.


Yes, it's that most wonderful time of the year when the misery of the Monsoon slowly subsides and the festivals begin! We've gone from a searing 90F/real feel 103F  (that's 32C /real feel 40C) daily to a milder 84F/real feel 95F (that's 29C/real feel 35C). It still pours rain for about 4 to 5 hours nightly with such severe thunder and lightning it sounds like we're under siege. The neighbors you see in the above and below photo ripped out the remains of the Summer corn and are planting some sort of onions in their field.


Nepalis often refer to garlic and onions by the same name so I'm not sure what exactly they're planting. The leaves are sort of flat like garlic but when I asked them what it was they said pyaaz which means onion in Hindi. I can't keep all these languages straight. I planted seeds for kohlrabi (moonjah), daikon radish (moolah), and Kashmiri haak (collards) already.


If you are wondering how tomatoes are grown year round in Nepal this is how they do it. A simple bamboo A frame structure is built with a clear sheet of plastic for the roof. This keeps the tomato plants fairly dry so they don't rot during the Monsoon. A trench is dug around the perimeter and at the foot of the plants to drain any excess water  too. The structure also keeps the tomato plants warm enough in the Winter so they bear year round. That black cylindrical plastic thing on stilts to the right is a water tank for the tomatoes during the dry Winters here. Tomato plants get huge (like 3 meters tall) as you can see in the photo when grown this way. 

So since nasty neighbor lady had her tantrum about feeding livestock on our road I decided I'd complain too. I'm getting tired of walking through the river of mud we call a road in front of our house every Monsoon. Since we're too darned swanky to feed cows and buffaloes in our neighborhood now I thought we could perhaps have a road that was somewhat navigable without a whitewater raft? By golly our homeowner's association sent six trailer loads of dirt and rocks out!


And this my friends is what the road right outside of front gate looked the morning AFTER six loads of dirt and rocks were spread on our road. Yes indeed, now we have a series of ponds instead of a river! I suppose that's an improvement. 


The afternoon Cha-cha (uncle) convention oversaw all the commotion with great amusement from the bus stop at the end of our road. (Believe me, the Cha-chas are as much world champion gossips and snoops as the Aunties.) This bus stop serves many community functions. Busses begin arriving at 6 AM with patients going to the hospital across the street from us, then at 8 AM the bratty rich kids that go to the private school at the end of our road arrive, then the Cha-chas take over the bus stop from about 3 PM until dark. Just 3 years ago this bus stop was a mere bare patch of dirt and a hand painted road sign, now we have a bench, roof, and guard rails!


In other news, His Imperial Majesty the Baacha Khan engaged in a duel of some sort with a rival kitty. I'm not sure who won as HIM suffered a severe bite on his tummy which abscessed to the size of a golf ball. HIM's wound had to be drained, debrided, resected, and stitched up THREE times. HIM is very good about taking his medications but ripped out his stitches twice. He was banned from any outdoor excursions for two weeks in addition to having to wear the humiliating funnel collar. He's still a bit peeved about the entire process and has been sleeping inside this old noodle box next to the refrigerator. I am happy to report he is now healthy, fully healed, and full of more pee and vinegar than ever. 

Try to remember when life was so tender
That no one wept except the willow
Try to remember the time of September
When love was an ember about to billow
Try to remember and if you remember
Then follow, follow.

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