Dacha and Dochka

Last Saturday I was finally able to go to Baba T's dacha (a garden outside of town, usually with a little house on the property as well). I asked her if I could come along and she said it would be pretty boring and that I should wait until the summer when things were planted and everything was in order and it was a good place to rest. But I told her that I wanted to come and help her (she has been going everyday she isn’t babysitting the grand kids). She said she NEVER lets anyone help her but decided I could come along to see her dacha and rest while she worked (I will admit, these where not my intentions).

Her dacha is a couple miles out of town through a forest – about a 10-15 minute drive by car. The walk there was beautiful – as we winded through the trees on a path only traveled by those heading to their dachas, it was soothing too see budding trees, wild flowers and NO trash! Baba T. said she just loves to see the forest as it “wakes up”.

I had seen a picture of the dacha in her “glory days” when Baba T. had the help of her husband along with time and energy to keep everything up. At one time, their dacha was their summer home, vacation spot, and much enjoyed hobby. But Baba T. warned me that things were far from being in order there, especially in her little house. Regardless, it was a pleasure to see this place that was so special to Baba T.

Her dacha (like most) is located in a community of dachas. These communities have electricity with a community water well. Though most had small humble homes only occupied in the summer, some were rather large and modern. Some people have a dacha just for a place to get away and not for the purpose of the garden. The wealthier people pay someone to live in their house year round to protect the property (as homes are often vandalized during the off season).

One of Baba T's neighbors looked of similar age and was working there by herself. We worked together to burn the dried grass and weeds. While I was a distance away I heard the neighbor ask Baba T. who I was. I didn’t hear all of what Baba T. said, but I caught that she called me her “dochka” – a form of the word for daughter. Baba T. often tells me that she is my mother (usually in the context of her telling me what to wear or do implying that I must listen to what she says). But I had never heard her call me her daughter before. :)

After she gave me a tour of her house and the plot of land where she grows different vegetables, fruits and flowers, she told me to just lay down on the couch and read a book or nap. I told her I didn’t bring a book and I wanted to help. After asking several times what I could do to help – she eventually let me help her weed a little flower bed. Apparently, I performed to her satisfaction because I was then given the task of helping her burn the old dried up weeds in what used to be a beautiful flower garden. Call me a pyro – but I really enjoyed this task!

Her son showed up in the afternoon and the 3 of us enclosed 2 of the 3 green-house style shelters. By the end of the day Baba T. had repeated said that she just couldn’t have done all these things without our help. She even made a comment something like this, “I guess you can work.” (While this could be taken as an insult, I took it as a victory!) :)

I not only got to grow closer to Baba T, but also enjoyed a little taste of home (wearing work cloths, getting dirty, enjoying the outdoors and WORKING!!)