green thumb

Our hostel has a balcony.

Actually, that may be an exaggeration of sorts. It would be more correct to say, 'our hostel has a trafficable roof, covered in large pebbles, which the management lets you sit out on. You have to climb out the windows to get to it'.

Anyway, it's sunny out, and as I enjoy my lunch, I'm watching something strange take place out on the 'balcony'. There's a young fellow out there, probably of an age with myself, or thereabouts - another hostel guest. A classy chap, attired in true traveler style. Bare chested, he's ambling about in naught else but his boxer shorts, thongs, peaked cap and a large pair of sunnies. You know, those big plastic ones with thick white frames. He's got his tunes going, a pair of oversize headphones completing his afternoon 'look'. So what, you ask?

He's gardening, I reply.

Now when you see a fellow like this gardening, you're bound to jump to a few conclusions. The horticultural endeavors of the shirtless youth, to be fair, do tend to be somewhat questionable. In this case, he's crouched next to a faux-terracota flowerpot, the rectangular variety, which sits out on the very edge of the roof deck. If you look in the title photo, you might even catch a glimpse of it. My first thought is “I don't even want to KNOW what's in that pot.” But that's not entirely true, is it? We all want to know, even if only to have a story to tell about it. Everybody likes to have a good story to tell.

He's taking good care of his little garden. Ever so slowly he removes weeds, one by one, clearing out the soil. What's interesting is that instead of simply disposing of them, he gently replants each tuft of green, settling it down upright amongst the pebbles. Not just placing – definitely planting. The hardy little things just might survive in this field of stones; there's a lot of other weeds that seem to be doing well among them. Though maybe they're also the work of this atypical gardener.

Finished with his work, he waters his green progeny from his drink bottle, and stands up. Hands on his head, he surveys his domain. Satisfied, he departs.

In frightful letdown, it does seem that this chap's botanical exploits are legitimate – my reconnaissance reveals nothing but some herbs, of the seasoning variety. A bit of parsley, a couple of fledgling lettuces. The hostel herb garden, perhaps? This guy was a guest, not management. Who can say what motivated him to so carefully tend this garden? In any case, with a little love and a little water, someone could be enjoying a nice salad in not too long. Especially if those little tomato plants would hurry up and fruit...