How Does Your Garden Grow?

As we like to say here: Каждому овощу – свой срок (For everything there is a season, or literally, “Every vegetable ripens at its own speed”). Given that this is harvest time, it seemed appropriate to consider how vegetables and fruit appear in our language.

Of course, the first vegetable among equals is our “second bread” (второй хлеб), the potato. Yet, as readers of Russian Life will know, the potato was not welcomed when Peter I brought it to Russia from Europe. The peasants’ infamous potato riots (картофельные бунты) were one of the earliest protests against reform from the top in Russia.

Luckily, those times are gone. The potato is now a beloved part of the Russian diet and local folklore. All children know the song “Антошка-Антошка – пойдём копать картошку” (“Little Anton, come on let’s go dig up potatoes”). And most adults recall Vysotsky’s song urging Russian workers and students not to dodge the famous “potato missions,” when hundreds of thousands of students and workers were sent to collective farms in the fall to help lazy Soviet farmers dig potatoes: Небось картошку все мы уважаем, если намять её с сольцой? (We all like potatoes don’t we? Especially if you mash them, and eat them with a little salt.)

There are also some negative associations with the potato, however. For instance, Tsar Paul I was said to have a potato nose (нос картошкой). More recently, Russian tennis star Yevgeny Kafelnikov, after tanking two Davis Cup singles matches in 1999, compared the Australian tennis courts to a картофельное поле (a potato field), meaning the grass court was too uneven. Finally, in thieves’ parlance a hand grenade is called a картошка.

The carrot is nowhere near as popular as the potato here, and thus its linguistic references are fewer. Aside from the appellation given to hack poetry – кровь-морковь – only one cultural reference comes to mind, and it is, well, unprintable. In fact, when I was first taught this risqué кровь-морковь rhyme, I покраснел, как помидор (turned as red as a tomato), which one can do either from shame or anger.

Needless to say, risqué was not the norm in the Soviet era. In fact, many children were taught the now-famous idiomatic phrase: детей находят в капусте (children are found in cabbage). The cabbage connection follows them into toddlerhood. When Russian children are wrapped up in thick clothing, they are said to be укутан как капуста (bundled-up like a cabbage). Of course, these days, капуста (slang for “money”) has become all-important to all but those still wrapped in it.

Other vegetables make cameo appearances in our idioms and slang: редиска (radish) is thieves’ slang for a bad person; you can pay someone a compliment if you say they look like a little cucumber (как огурчик); if somebody behaves like a buffoon, he may be called a шут гороховый (Buffoon of Peas); when a parent or teacher realizes their words fall on deaf ears, they may say in irritation “как об стенку горох” (“like peas bouncing off the wall”).

Fruits don’t grow as well in Russia as vegetables, so fruity idioms are often associated with something alien, exotic or even hostile. If someone sees something unexpected or unusual, they might say “Какой фрукт выискался.” (“Look at this [strange] fruit we’ve found!”). When a child has inherited a (usually negative) trait from their parent, we say “Яблоко от яблони недалеко падает” (“The apple does not fall far from the tree”).

But not all fruit phrases have negative connotations. A well-proportioned woman may be called спелый персик (a ripe peach). And when a woman has reached her “ideal” marrying (or dating) age, men might say between themselves that “she is like a ripe pear, ready to fall from the tree” (“Её можно трясти, как грушу”).

In reference to film erotica, a steamy love scene is called a клубничка (strawberry). Meanwhile a sappy romantic scene or film (e.g Notting Hill or Pretty Woman) is called a клюква (cranberry).

Another berry, the raspberry – малина – is a rich source of expressions, all reflecting the high regard the fruit enjoys here. First of all, малина is crook’s argot for “a place to rendezvous” (most often an apartment). Second, when someone spoils a party or a pleasure, you can say they “всю малину испортил” (“spoiled the whole raspberry”). Finally, if a man finds himself surrounded by women, someone might jokingly say “Какой малинник” or
“В какой малинник ты попал!” (“What a raspberry patch you have fallen into!”)

The garden – огород – where all these fruits and vegetables grow, is itself a source of linguistic creativity. For example, when someone makes critical comments that allude to someone else (e.g. “Some people are so stubborn!”), the person who is the object of the reproach, if they “get it,” might say “Это камень в мой огород?” (“Is this a stone cast into my garden?”) Only rarely would this phrase be used to refer to positive comments thought to be about oneself.

Finally, when someone makes an argument with irrelevant or illogical facts, you can point out the flawed thinking with the Russian proverb: В огороде бузина – а в Киеве дядька (There is the buzina* in the garden and an uncle in Kiev).

Needless to say, it might not be wise to use this proverb with a Russian-speaking Ukrainian. There’s no telling what kinds of “stones” he might throw into your garden...

*a wild berry that should not be eaten.