I grew up on a farm a small bit distant from a tiny town.
The gate leading into our backyard was a large mess, and underneath it was a bench. This slop - as Jan Kochanowski described the slop from Czarnolas - seemed to say:
“Guy, sit under my leaf and rest!”
So we sat under it gladly. Mom utilized to cut apples into jam there, Dad utilized to rest, smoke cigarettes, and I utilized to like to sit there.
Aliens who visited us besides sat under the limelight. Most of them were people who had business with their father, but the postman frequently rested under her before the next road.
So it was bad for many people under its “left” and for any of them it was a memory.
Herbal
Around our home there were low hills covered with forests or grass and herbs. There were meadows and fields in the valleys, and any of the ponds were lit.
After these hills and meadows from spring to autumn there was an old woman collecting herbs and forest fleece. She was a skinny female with a wrinkled face and a long nose. She dressed in black dresses almost to the ground, and so were the handkerchiefs tied under her chin. She was walking around with a wicker basket and an old leather bag on her arm. The drawing was completed by a stick and a pocketknife with a curved blade, which she called a "gypsy". She looked like Baba Jaga, and as a kid I was a small afraid of her. In time, fear gave way to curiosity and, as far as I could, I listened to her conversations with my mother.
She was talking about something. Insects and beetles were ‘cuzaki’, forest and garden fruit, but apples, pears and plums, and all cakes were ‘pierogs’. She besides made any comic mistakes.
The herbalist utilized to come to us often, but she never knocked on the door. She sat on the above mentioned bench under the linden and dressed her crops. The kitchen window was out in the backyard, so Mom always noticed her and asked her to come inside. Her parent addressed her in an old Polish courtesy form through “you”, and she spoke to everyone through “you”.
– Would you like something to eat? – asked Mom erstwhile the guest had already sat at the kitchen table.
– Just give me milk and bread – the old woman answered.
Mom was serving milk and bread, and the herbalist started eating. She cut the peels off the bread with a gypsy due to the fact that her toothless mouth couldn't handle them. She chewed the remainder slowly, drinking thickly with milk.
Eating, she told me all kinds of news from the woods. She erstwhile said that the foxes “took a blow” and that Mom had to keep a good eye on the chickens. Another time, she told me that a chaotic boar had spread a field behind a grave. My mother, who was in town sometimes only erstwhile a week, was more curious in fresh things from there, and the herbalist did not fail. She told us who died, who got married, who and for whom the militia closed, or what Father Dominko had contracted, or our parish priest named Dominik.
When she ate, she left any kind of payment on the table. Sometimes it was a small mushroom, sometimes a fewer handfuls of ‘jagos’, or a bunch of herbs. My parent never wanted to accept it, but the old woman was adamant. Then she said goodbye and left.
In our tiny town there was besides a alleged "better country". These people did not go like the remainder of the “people” into the forest for mushrooms or berries, but willingly ate them. These are the ones our friend provided. She besides sold medicine for a mixture of harvested herbs. In addition, she did wool to people and thus made a modest living.
The herbalist lived in a small, mediocre cottage just off the ruined city walls. Sometimes, erstwhile I came back from school, I went through there, expecting to see something interesting. I never saw anything.
Until the day the herbalist died. Mom went to her ceremony and came back amazed that he was very lavish and individual had to pay a lot for him. It was attended by only a fistful of people from the town that no 1 would have suspected of specified a gesture.
The subject has been in talks for a long time and it seems to me that it is not known who paid for the funeral.
Janek
A man named Janek lived and worked in a close pezier. He was a tall, obstinate man and, like most people with specified body structure, he was calm and speechless. He came to us to make any extra money, helping with haycods, harvests, and excavations.
There was quite a few work in the pezier during these periods, and it would seem that all man was needed then. Apparently, however, there was a pegieer order there due to the fact that no 1 noticed or wanted to announcement the deficiency of an employee.
I don't know erstwhile Dad dated him, but Janek always showed up erstwhile he was most needed. He stayed with us for a fewer days and helped with his work.
In his spare time, he would sit on a bench under the linden, take out his pocket with a busted notebook and draw. due to the fact that I truly wanted to see what he was drawing, so I was hanging around, but I was afraid to ask. Finally, Janek understood my demeanors and 1 day showed me his notebook. It had birds and flowers that looked alive.
Many years later I saw equally beautiful drawings in illustrated natural albums. I think if individual discovered and showed his drawings to the planet in time, possibly we'd be reading about him present in the encyclopedia. Unfortunately, Janek was not so fortunate and no 1 met him on his talent.
Janek worked here casually for respective years. He came from spring to autumn, and for the remainder of the year we didn't know anything about him due to the fact that he didn't even visit us.
One day Dad said at dinner that Janka had arrested the militia. He did not know for what, due to the fact that any said that for a fight and others said that for a "policy".
I never learned anything more about it, and then Janek didn't show up.
Mr. Bernat
Several times a year, Mr. Bernat, the red wu-ef-em came to us. He was a short man, walking always in britches, boots with uppers and a large beret pulled down on his left ear. Mr. Bernat came with a shotgun due to the fact that he was a hunter.
He would always show up before the night, and under the limey he would discuss something with his dad until the night. Then we went to sleep and he went into the woods.
The next morning, erstwhile I left for school, Dad was gone and our car was gone. On my way home this afternoon, Dad and the car were already here, and there was any meat in the kitchen. My parent worked with him sometimes until night, and then for respective days we had to eat them all the time.
Of course, no 1 explained anything to me, but I was told not to tell anyone. I was a good kid, so I didn't say anything, but nobody asked me.
Russian
Our home was nicely located, but it was not in a safe place due to the fact that there was a Russian military airport nearby. The runway of this airport was well visible from the window in the roof, and the line of poles with approach lights ran just behind our barn. These lights were checked all erstwhile in a while by the soldiers at the airport who would come to us as a result. Dad, who knew Russian a small bit, sat with them under the limey and talked. He later told that these soldiers had come from somewhere under the Korean border and had to go home for a week.
However, these soldiers did not come to talk. They came first of all to trade, that is to make "magazines". They had various attractive goods for us and exchanged them for vodka.
I didn't know all my dad's deals with them, but I do know that my first-community watch came from swings. It was beautiful. On the shield, he had a painted Earthball, which ran around on the satellite's second hand. Additionally, the numbers, clues and the said satellite were lit in the dark. My first pants strap came from swings, too. Both the watch and the belt have served me for many years. Waves were then a common practice in the area and in many homes were clocks, tools or canisters of Russian origin.
It was said that in 1992 - erstwhile the airport was liquidated - even weapons could be obtained as part of the "magazines", but not for vodka, but for dollars.
After respective decades, I visited those pages and looked at our erstwhile home from a distance. It's just, it's just, it's like, it's like, it's like, it's like... it's like... it's like... it's like... it's like... Was there a bench under her?
