Chapter 003: Planted Under the Backyard Eaves

Xiaomei’s house was at the east end of Bian Village in Henan, with three main rooms and a courtyard without walls. On the south side of the courtyard were three storage rooms.

To the north of her house was an open space, fenced in by her grandmother and mother with toon trees, goji bushes, and thorny shrubs. Inside they grew a lot of vegetables.

At this time of year, cucumbers and eggplants hadn’t grown big yet. The chicken feather vegetable (jīmáocài) sown after the vernalization had just become edible. Amaranth and water spinach were still too small but growing vigorously. The best grown was a row of broad beans, planted back in November last year. Judging by their growth, they would definitely be ready to eat fresh broad beans by the beginning of summer.

To the north of the courtyard, right next to it, was a road—the main path villagers took in and out of the village. On the north side of the road was a small plot of land with a pigpen containing one pig; several stacks of rice straw, which were firewood for the year; and a simple large jar covered by a small thatched shed. This had been the family’s manure pit but was no longer used because the village had a communal manure pit area.

At home, the manure pit was just filled with grass, snail shells, mud from the riverbed, and pig manure by her mother, serving as compost—nutrients for the vegetables.

Next to the manure pit, three water convolvulus plants (called “kuazi” or “bianpo” by Suzhou people) were planted. This vegetable grows best near water. When it started to vine, Dad would build a frame in the water. The vines would climb all over the frame, and the gourds would hang down, swaying on the water surface. Dad would pick the ripe ones when he took his bath at night.

Water convolvulus can be stir-fried or braised, but Xiaomei liked it best served with noodles. Homemade noodles had good chewiness, and the convolvulus was salty-fresh with a slight sweetness—a real delicacy. Unfortunately, they only ate it once a year because Grandma was stingy and didn’t want to waste flour on noodles.

The Jinhua family lived just east of Xiaomei’s, separated by a small alley. Their house faced directly onto the road, so they didn’t have a backyard, but their front yard was quite large.

The two girls happily returned home and each went to plant their own rose bushes.

Xiaomei walked into the main room where Grandma Wang was picking broad beans. The selected beans, after soaking overnight and peeling, could be stir-fried with pickled vegetables—very appetizing.

“Oh, why are you home so early today?” Grandma teased when she saw Xiaomei.

This granddaughter had always been practical and hardworking since she was little—skilled at cutting pig grass, picking chicken droppings, and taking care of her younger brother.

“Grandma, I didn’t run all over the village today. Great-grandpa gave me two rose branches to propagate. They’re so beautiful,” Xiaomei said, putting down her bundle of firewood and looking for tools.

Grandma Wang put down her work, dusted off some dirt, and said, “Let me do it.” She went to the storage room to get a small shovel, then to the kitchen for a bucket, and scooped up some ash from the stove.

At the door, she cut the string binding the rose branches with scissors. She snipped off a small piece of rose branch that was going to be discarded, rubbed the remaining parts on the ash in the bucket, then placed them into the bucket and handed it to Xiaomei: “Here, hold this.” Holding the shovel herself, she went outside.

Xiaomei eagerly followed: “Grandma, why do we need ash?”

“If you get hurt, your dad helps you clean and disinfect with iodine. The rose branches are ‘hurt’ too, so they need disinfecting. The ash works like iodine for them,” Grandma explained.

Wow, Grandma really understands! Xiaomei’s eyes squinted with admiration.

“Rose, rose, now you’re disinfected and won’t hurt anymore. You must grow well,” Xiaomei said silently.

In the backyard, Grandma and Xiaomei whispered, “Where’s a good place to plant?”

Xiaomei looked around. She knew her mother’s vegetable patch was off limits. Otherwise, Mom would scold her badly—and might even uproot the roses and toss them into the river in a flash.

“Grandma, plant over there,” Xiaomei pointed behind the house.

The backyard was lower than the house’s foundation. The strip of land about 50 centimeters wide adjoining the house was higher, level with the house foundation.

There was a window in the middle of the back wall, the back window of the middle guest room. To the east of the window grew some impatiens, just sprouting a little now. To the west was a yam vine, which had been there for many years. Xiaomei’s family had never thought to dig it up for eating; they let it grow every year. The yam climbed onto the roof, and sometimes the family steamed yam tubers as snacks. The tubers were slightly bitter but edible—a treat for Xiaomei and her brother.

At this time, the yam had few green leaves, exposing many old vines stretching from the ground to the roof.

Xiaomei suggested planting the roses west of the yam, under the eaves where the ground was higher and wouldn’t interfere with her mom’s vegetables.

Grandma Wang nodded approvingly, dug a hole with the shovel, put some wood ash into it, then planted one rose branch and covered it with soil.

It was lucky that the soil behind the house was mostly sand and small stones from when the house was built, so the soil was not sticky.

Grandma used the same method to plant the second rose branch.

Then she fetched some water and thoroughly watered both rose branches.

“All done. Xiaomei, remind Grandma to water them the next few days. In a few days, we’ll know if they’ll survive,” Grandma said as she led Xiaomei back inside.

Xiaomei couldn’t sit still and kept wanting to check on the roses in the backyard. Grandma thought for a moment and said, “Why don’t you go to Grandma’s house? Didn’t you say your maternal grandmother is coming back today? Go check when she’ll arrive.”

“That’s right. Dad said after the hospital check today, Grandma can come back. It’s almost 10:30 now; she should be home soon,” Xiaomei said and ran out: “Grandma, I’m going to check!”

Before she finished speaking, she was already far away.

Xiaomei’s mom had married into the village—from the east end of a village north of the river to the east end of the village south of the river. Grandma’s house and Xiaomei’s house faced each other across the river. Usually, they could just shout across the river to talk.

But today was different. First, Xiaomei didn’t know if anyone was home at Grandma’s. Uncle and aunties had gone to work; cousins were either at school or away in Suzhou, probably not home.

Also, today’s matter wasn’t suitable for shouting across the river.

Thinking of this, Xiaomei felt heavy-hearted.

Dad said Grandma had a cancer—a problem with her pancreas. It had been discovered for over half a year. She was hospitalized in Suzhou ten days ago and was supposed to be discharged today.

Dad and Mom had already gone to Suzhou yesterday and took her little brother along. They were staying at Aunt Wang Yanqin’s house and planned to return by boat with Grandma and uncle today.

There was still no road connection to Tianjing Village. Villagers took boats to Suzhou. Most people didn’t like to spend money on boat fares and borrowed boats from the village team to row themselves to Suzhou.

Xiaomei ran to Grandma’s house but found no one there.

She looked around several nearby homes but didn’t see her cousin. Feeling disappointed, she went back home and decided to come again in the afternoon.

Back at her own backyard, she suddenly remembered to check on her beloved rose bushes.

The backyard had a gate, made by Dad with thin wooden strips. It kept out people but mainly dogs and other animals that might eat the vegetables. It wasn’t locked.

Xiaomei pushed open the gate and walked to where she had just planted the roses.

She was shocked to find the spot completely empty.

The rose bushes she and Grandma had planted… were gone!