I'm on the porch again on a clear, crisp spring morning. I'm surrounded by climbing roses, their alluring scent mingled with the assertive, cool and impressive fragrances of the sweet hawthorn trees. My eyes linger on my favorite fruits on a plate in front of me. For minutes I didn't even realize that I was immersed in new worlds and their seeds. I reached out and picked up one of the seeds and popped it in my mouth. I just froze, I don't know how much time passed. I was going to write my column for you today. That was my purpose when I sat here... My eyes remained still and silent on the new worlds...

When I raised my eyes, I suddenly found myself in the stone streets of my childhood.

When I was a child, we used to look for the seeds of the new world that the rainwater had washed away from the upper neighborhoods in the cobblestone pavements and the so-called "sap" in the middle of the stone street where the rainwater flowed. When we found them, our eyes would light up with happiness. We would peel off the brown outer shells, wash them and then put them in our mouths. Sometimes we would collect the seeds of the new worlds we ate at home and give them to each other as gifts. We would turn them in our mouths all day long, hoping they would turn into chocolate. They never turned into chocolate, as we would later grow up to understand, they would turn dark and brown because they were oxidized by the air. Yet we were determined and insistent on performing the same rituals every spring, every day, always doing them, always waiting, always hoping, never losing hope.

There were grape vines wrapping around the walls of our houses back then. The garden walls of almost the entire street would be covered with rose vines. In the spring we would eat the new shoots of the vines, called "tangents", crunchy and tart. We ate rose petals, colorful, pink, red, white. We found them fragrant and delicious, and the elders would make jars and jars of jam from these fragrant roses.

The gardens of all the houses were full of apple, pear and plum trees. Despite all the poverty, we would still buy melons and watermelons by the cartload.

There were horse carts back then. Wooden carts with an open top, pulled by a horse. They were not two-horse or elegant like a carriage. We used them instead of taxis or cars, we didn't have enough money to hire a taxi, nor did we have cars. I can't remember if there were buses, if there were few or no buses. In Anatolia, we never used to take buses or minibuses in the city, everywhere was within walking distance in the city, which was already like a small box.

We used to go to the market with my mother. My mother would display melons and watermelons and bargain to buy all or half of them. Then she would turn a horse-drawn cart, put me on it, I would give directions to the driver, I would sit in the back and swing my legs down, and we would ride down the stone roads. We stored them in the coolest parts of our houses, some of us in the garden, some in the basement, some in outbuildings. Apples, pears and peaches were bought in crates, grapes in molds, mulberries and plums in baskets; even the concept of weight was almost non-existent back then. Eggplants, beans, potatoes and onions were also bought in sacks. Neighbors would divide it among themselves when it would be too much. We used to break the apricot seeds and eat them, and watermelon seeds we used to eat just like that, or we used to dry, roast and store them for the winter. The seeds of pumpkins and watermelon seeds were our biggest entertainment.

Hıdırlık Hill and all the hills were covered with almond and walnut trees. In the spring, everyone would go to the mountains to pick almonds. Picnics were held and almonds and walnuts were picked. When the almonds were green, no one would be greedy and buy as much as they could eat so that they could shell and turn into winter almonds. No one would pay for almonds or walnuts.

Sunflowers were already growing along the roadsides and in the gardens of houses. Sunflowers with their beautiful, plump, lush, green petals, with huge bellies, sometimes as big as trays, were sold in the marketplaces, we would buy three or five of them for three or five cents, eat them fresh, dry some of them and save them for winter. Wow... How we were ourselves, how unmasked and how happy we were in those old springs...

I came to my senses as a huge plate of the seeds of the new world spilled out of my tightly closed palms onto the floor. I quickly gathered them back into my palms... To give as gifts to my loved ones...

Mukaddes Pekin Başdil

Researcher-Author

Source: Denizli Haber