Currants, grapes, and even peaches. A Minsk pensioner planted a mini-garden near his entrance
Vladimir Kotlyar will turn 90 in July. However, the pensioner doesn't stay at home. He spends a lot of time near the entrance of his building on Yanka Mavra street, where he has cultivated a mini-garden. He grows currants, grapes, and even peaches, reports "Minsk-Novosti" agency.
An oasis amidst the asphalt
The sixth entrance of house No. 23 on Yanka Mavra street is visible from afar: the porch is hidden in dense greenery, with a lake in the background. Looking closer, you realize: it's a masterfully executed atmospheric panel above the entrance elements, instantly transporting you to the heart of nature.
Once accustomed, the eye notices other wonders: a green grove serves as a harmonious continuation of the multicolored wall art. This one is real: it wasn't painted but planted. Near the entrance, the end wall of the building, and immediately behind it, there are 20 bushes of currants, raspberries, blackberries, two grapevines, and seven rose bushes.
And here is the gardener. Vladimir Kotlyar is most often found here: now and then, something needs to be dug up, trimmed, or watered. Lately, he says, it's getting harder: it's no joke, he'll turn 90 in July! He tries not to think about age, though: there are, he says, many more interesting and important things in the world.
"This winter was harsh: the vine and four rose bushes froze," shares the interlocutor. "But the last purchased seedlings survived. In previous winters there were no losses, although I don't insulate at all. Take 'Isabella', for example: don't mind that she's a lady, cold won't scare her."
Just a peach!
Vladimir Ivanovich goes to the market for seedlings. He orders many from other cities and villages. Not long ago, about half a dozen apple and pear trees died due to an assistant's carelessness — the diligent gardener planted new ones next to them.
However, he is not in a hurry to part with the old ones either: miracles often occur in nature — they might resurrect. It has happened before: last spring, someone cut down an apple tree near the sidewalk. It seemed to have died, but he managed to nurse it back to health — it blooms as before.
The main exotics are the walnut and peach. An apricot, the latest addition to the garden, joined them.
Harvest is not the main goal: much more important, says Kotlyar, are the aesthetic and educational functions. However, the utilitarian approach has not been cancelled. Oyster mushrooms grow on decorative stumps between the bushes: last year he enjoyed the delicacy, and he plans to do so this year too. The same goes for grapes.
Green Poetry
Vladimir Ivanovich himself wonders where such aspirations come from. By education, he is an energy specialist, having dedicated many years to the electrification of rural areas, working in trusts, industrial enterprises, and even in the Far North.
In the village in Navahrudak region where he was born, there was no garden of his own: he always good-naturedly envied those who could just embrace an apple tree like that. It seems the roots of his subconscious desire to catch up on what was lost lie in his childhood.
"Poets are not taught to write verses: they discover poetry within themselves. So I discovered it too, only green," smiles the interlocutor and adds: "In 1970, I read in 'Pravda' that Siberian cedar was being grafted onto pine in the Moscow region to achieve a faster nut harvest. The scion was brought from Siberia, even the forestry enterprise was specified, and I wrote there. They sent me fifty cuttings. I gave them to the Maladzyechna forestry enterprise, where they also grafted them onto pine. We maintained contact for a long time afterward."
The enthusiast also pays great attention to health issues.
"For 35 years now, I've lived without colds and flu, while before I suffered from chronic pharyngitis. One of the secrets is felt boots: if I feel a chill running down my legs, I notice the first bad symptoms, I put them on in the evening - and in the morning there are no signs of illness," he says.
All of this, like pieces of a puzzle, forms a grand life project.
"The meaning of my activity is to change for the better not only the environment but also, if possible, people. My guide is the words of Francysk Skaryna: 'We are born into the world not only for ourselves, but primarily for the service of the common good.' It's a pity that this good quote is not near the monument at the National Library," the interlocutor emphasizes.
Vladimir Ivanovich has no far-reaching plans for the garden. Perhaps, he might just befriend thornless blackberries.
"For a yard, this is a real find, because they are thornless. And the berries are twice as large and sweeter. I found seedlings in Maladzyechna and Pinsk, we are looking for a way to transfer them," he notes.
The enthusiast is also interested in Ginkgo — a relict long-lived tree: what a gift that would be for the yard, for hundreds of years!
Learning throughout life
During this time, a three-tiered flower bed with petunias and marigolds grew near the entrance. Nearby, a heron settled on a tall pole, and a bit further, a family of storks. For announcements, there's a rotating cylinder. What could be more boring than a regular board?
"I was awarded diplomas of various degrees in city competitions for the best entrance and floral decoration," the enthusiast states.
However, Vladimir Ivanovich is not in a hurry for recognition. For him, it is important to learn himself: he considers the lack of ordinary curiosity in people to be a great problem of the current century.
"All this work has taught me a lot. For example, blackcurrants: they often write that there are many difficulties with them. But I cut a branch and put it in the ground - and it grows: what difficulties? Many things are very simple, but without experience, they can be intimidating, so it's important to overcome fear. My apricot didn't freeze - it took root, although they said it would be difficult."
With his own hands
Vladimir Kotlyar pays for all the work in and around the entrance himself. He meticulously records the expenses in a notebook. The total amount over all these years has accumulated to a substantial sum, but, he says, it's not a pity for a useful cause. And there are many such causes he's undertaken, of the most diverse kinds.
"In the mid-1980s, it was difficult to buy a cylinder lock with a set of keys. Learning that they were made in Latvia, I wrote a letter to their State Planning Committee. A reply came from there, assuring me that the production of the necessary goods had doubled. I still keep that letter," the interlocutor recounts.
When Vladimir Kotlyar moved to Minsk in 2006, there were no trees near the entrance: he says he was lucky, because if there had been poplars and chestnuts, where would he plant gardens then?
While he was working, he had no time for public activity, but he went on a well-deserved retirement — and things started to roll. In the yard of the house on Karalya street, where his granddaughter lived, he decorated the walls of the transformer substation with a bright landscape; the following year, he created a similar object in his own yard.
At the same time, the entrance porch changed, and after that, the walls on the first and third floors.