A freshly trimmed lawn replaces the wild, unruly shrubbery that I’m so familiar with
A way of life that now feels so distant,
Bearing no translation in the confines of the English language
So how can I ever begin to convey it?
I find myself longing for the aroma of fresh earth
The taste of hand-picked gooseberries,
14 years later
Still but a memory on the tip of my tongue
The freshly squeezed tomato juice,
Grown by the devotion of my grandfather
That I only get to hear stories about from my cousins
Uncomparable to the stuff here at NetCost
I long for the feeling of the dewy grass on the bare soles of my feet
A strong, grounding kinship with the land
We don’t hide from nature here, we welcome it
Worms, mosquitoes, spiders, rabbits
Everyone has their purpose
As do we
I long for the days I sat, observing my grandparent’s meticulous handiwork
The fence, the table, the bench
Despite their rough edges and mismatched screws
I can’t help but admire them
The endearing products of the sweat drenched, soil-stained fingers
Where devotion and love is deeply ingrained
When the longing gets too strong,
I walk through the Floyd Bennett Community Gardens
Where the Slavic diaspora infuses their roots into the urban soils of Brooklyn
Finally, the longing subsides
I have found my Дачa
Just a little closer to home
I love the way you delved into how the Floyd Bennet Gardens delivers your feelings of longing and missing what almost seems to be a true home. The photos themselves really convey this since you zoom in on specific things that really seem to stick to you, further implying how much you miss this place.
P.S. I’m away from my laptop so I’m leaving a comment via my phone, so I am not logged in.
In your written response, I related to all of the references to Netcost market and to the dacha itself. I appreciate the angles ou used in your photography, especially to capture the nature and the dew on the leaves. I find it interesting that so many groups in NYC have their own “dacha” and location that they go to find their community and spend time with family, whether that be in New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Maine, Rhode Island, etc.
I love the details and references included in your poem, it really adds to the cultural meaning behind the photos. I also found the way you compared your grandfather’s tomato juice to the ones sold at NetCost very relatable. The photos definitely convey the specific aspects that you miss and the details which you finding comforting and familiar.