A Green Thumb | 我在英国“当农民”
Written by: Liu Qian | 刘倩
Translated by: Christina Zhao
Editor’s Note:
This article is excerpted from Haha! Britain — a charitable bilingual publication co-produced by The Mothers’ Bridge of Love (MBL) and River Cam Breeze. The book is a lively collaboration between 42 Chinese authors living in the UK and 36 university-based volunteer translators. With wit and warmth, the stories capture the everyday realities of Chinese communities in Britain, offering an honest look at the cultural clashes, humour, and adaptation that arise in the space between Chinese and British ways of life. Haha! Britain has been warmly endorsed by several well-known figures in UK-China relations, including Stephen Perry (former Chairman of the 48 Group Club), Luise Schäfer OBE (former British diplomat and Chamber of Commerce chair), Professor Hugo De Burgh (former BBC editor and academic), and British scholar Martin Jacques. The book’s title was handwritten by celebrated British-Chinese artist Qu Leilei, its cover illustrated by bestselling Chinese author and poet Feng Tang, and the postscript contributed by Xue Mo, a prominent voice in contemporary Chinese literature.
Illustrated by Tian Tian
I always longed for an idyllic life in the countryside.
When I was a kid, my parents would always take me to my grandma’s house for the weekend. Her home was nestled on the outskirts of Chengdu, in southwest China, where farmlands stretched out along the road in front of her house. One of my favourite activities was exploring the fields with Grandpa. He would hold my hand and point out which fields were planted with cotton and which with corn. I loved every moment of it and never grew tired of walking along the narrow, muddy countryside roads.
This is where my first impression of the countryside was formed – a cherished part of my childhood.
Three years ago, when I settled in the UK and finally had a garden of my own, it dawned on me that I could begin my own gentle, slow-paced, idyllic activity of farming. From the first spring in my new home, I’ve been deeply immersed in this pastime. Gardening, I’ve discovered, is almost an obsession among scholars in the UK. I recall, 13 years ago while pursuing my PhD, hearing Oxford professors say things like, “Dr. X not only has more publications but is also a better gardener than I”, as a way of expressing admiration. It seemed that being a skilled gardener, even more than being a distinguished scholar, was an enviable accomplishment.
At that time I was sharing a house with two good friends of mine, and one of them was a doctoral supervisor who would bring us enormous courgettes that he grew himself every summer. Of course, we thanked the supervisor and his wife with the utmost respect in our traditional Chinese way – by preparing a homemade Sichuan hotpot. I must say, they were quite brave to try such bold flavours, and those shared moments were truly enjoyable for all of us.
I couldn’t wait to start my own gardening. I bought some apple trees, pear trees, grape vines and strawberry plants online and planted them along the edges of the garden. My husband helped me loosen the soil to the south of the garden and then placed two wood blocks as borders. And voilà, garden done.
Since it was my first time planting vegetables, I didn’t know much. I scattered the pea seeds in the field without even covering them with soil. Surprisingly, the peas grew anyway. I can still taste the sweetness of those peas when I think back to that spring. It wasn’t only peas that were easy to grow. In the golden British summer, we could harvest one courgette every two days. We grew tomatoes and beans as well. From June to August, when the days can be as long as 17 hours, I was practically living in the garden. To me, picking vegetables was a joy. It was also my kids’ favourite activity that summer.
I always joke that the point of planting vegetables is to grow things quickly.
You reap what you sow, simple as that.
I have to say the reason planting brings me so much joy is that the two main pillars of my life require patience. For example, it takes almost 2 to 3 years to publish a paper or a book. It takes even longer to be a good parent.
However, planting is a whole different story. If you put a bag of peas into a plastic box with holes and put the box into a bigger one with a piece of wet kitchen towel on top, the peas will get bigger by the next morning. By the next morning, they’ll have roots with hair. Within a week’s time, you’ll see 5cm tall, fresh green pea shoots. And you can add them to your noodles or your hotpot within two weeks. I began to understand why scholars in the UK love gardening. We like it, but we also need it. We need the enjoyment from planting, harvesting and the sweetness from the greens so that the long days of being an oftentimes “benched” scholar can feel more invigorating.
Last spring, I wanted to expand my “planting business” and even rented a piece of land near my home. I successfully persuaded friends to join us so we could co-plant this land. As it turned out, we had a lovely, busy but fulfilling time co-planting and harvesting.
My obsession with planting also had me joining a London-based planting group chat. The irony is I don’t even live in London. Yes, that’s how obsessed I was with planting. There is somebody we call “head of the village” in the group chat who knows everything about planting and would always answer questions thoroughly and thoughtfully. I discovered that he was also an Oxford graduate and that he had a lab in his garage where he experimented with lighting to increase yield.
Seeing people from impressive academic backgrounds share the same interest in planting and building connections brought me joy too. There was a girl I knew from the group who once gifted me a bunch of seedlings. In return, I gave her some seeds and a fig leaf gourd seedling. Six months later, I found my fig leaf gourd had become worm food, whereas hers was a success! She sent her husband to bring me half of it as she wanted to share the fruit of her success with me. Of course, we each cooked a half of it on the same evening to celebrate.
However, planting was not all I was passionate about. One day, I heard some hurried, faint noises coming from the grass on my way home after dropping the kids off at school. Upon closer inspection, I found a tiny black bird hopping around, looking very alone and lost. Not seeing any sign of a nest or a mother bird, I decided to bring it home. I fashioned a makeshift nest for the baby bird using a tissue box lined with soft tissues.
Unsurprisingly, my daughter was thrilled. She would carry the box around all day, chatting to the baby bird. Raising it wasn’t easy at first; the bird refused to eat. After researching online, I learned that caring for a baby bird is quite similar to raising a baby – it requires patience. You can’t force it to eat but must wait calmly. Eventually, the bird began to eat, just as children eventually adapt.
On that same day, we thought it’d be a good idea to take the box out in the garden and let the bird immerse itself in the natural surroundings. When we came back after leaving the house for just a few hours, all that was left for us was an empty box with some fur. The bird was nowhere to be found.
After this experience, I nearly embarked on another venture – raising hens. I bought a hen hut and called a farm about investing in some hens, but then realized that I’d never commit enough to chickens to avoid a disaster like the one with the small black bird. So I turned to tadpoles instead. I kept them inthe bathtub until they grew up. We set them free in the pond at the university. Just as we let them go, a duck swam over. My younger daughter was worried the duck would eat her tadpoles. Every time we passed by that pond, my daughters would ask if the tadpoles were still there or if they had been eaten by the duck. We reassured them that the tadpoles swim very fast and were likely fine.
My apple and prune trees give plenty of fruit every autumn, which is a marvelous feeling. I have two prune plum trees, and one of them was gifted to me by my housemate’s supervisor’s wife when we first settled here. My supervisor passed away 7 years ago, but the tree has grown higher than the fence and makes me feel connected to him.
Now, that I’m a more seasoned gardener, I’ve learned to make peace with two things: the bugs eating my plants and being “benched”. I have learned to be at peace with having to share my garden with snails as well as with being rejected for publications, no matter how hard I work on writing papers. Despite setbacks, the important thing is to always keep planting.
About the author
Liu Qian, from Chengdu City, Sichuan Province, is an Associate Professor at the School of Modern Languages and Cultures at the University of Warwick. Her research focuses on contemporary Chinese literature, comparative literature and translation studies. She holds a PhD from the University of Oxford and has previously taught at the School of Chinese Language and Literature at Beijing Normal University.
在我的心里大概一直就有一个关于田园的梦想。
小时候，每到周末，我就会跟着爸爸妈妈去外婆家玩耍。外婆家位于成都市的郊区，跨过外婆家门口的那条街，沿着马路走下去，路的两旁就是田野。我最爱跟着外公去田里玩，他会牵着我的手，指给我看，哪个是棉花，哪个是玉米。田间的小路窄而泥泞，但我走得乐此不疲。我对乡村最初的印象就是来源于此。乡村，是我童年的一部分。
三年前，当我们在英国安家，终于有了自己的花园，我突然意识到：我有土地了，可以种菜了！从前年春天起，我开始沉迷于种菜，几乎不能自拔。据说，英国的典型学者往往都痴迷种菜。十三年前，我还在读博士的时候，就曾听到牛津的一位教授在对另一位教授表达敬佩之情时说：“他不光文章发得比我多，菜都种得比我好！”听到这话的人都不禁觉得，似乎菜种得好，才是更加让人羡慕的事情！那时，我和两个好朋友合租一栋房子，其中一位好朋友的博士导师每年夏天都会给我们送来个头巨大的西葫芦，是他自己种的。这些巨型西葫芦给我们三个人的读博生涯增添了无穷的欢喜。当然，好友的博士导师和他太太的拜访，他们勇敢尝试四川火锅的勇气，以及品尝我们做的各种中式“黑暗料理”的情景，更是给我们带来了长久的欢乐。
所以，当我发现自己拥有了花园，就迫不及待地开始张罗起种菜来。我在网上买了苹果树、梨树、西梅树、葡萄秧、草莓秧，沿着院子的边缘种了下去。院子朝南的地方，正好有一小块地没有覆盖草皮，我让文博帮我翻了土，然后在边上放了两根大木桩作为边界，于是就有了菜地。
第一次种菜，我什么都不懂，买来豌豆种子以后，就直接往地里撒了一大片，甚至都没有盖上土，豌豆苗竟然就密密麻麻地长了起来。那年春天，我们收获了好多豌豆，嫩豌豆的甜，是真的美味。西葫芦也是非常好种的，在英国黄金般的夏天，几乎每两天就可以收一个。还有西红柿和菜豆，都是最好种也最能给人成就感的。那段时间，尤其是在英国漫漫长日的 6 到 8 月，我一逮着机会就往花园跑，看看哪个西红柿又红了，哪个西葫芦又可以摘了。娃们也乐此不疲，最爱来帮我摘瓜果。
我总是开玩笑说，种菜的乐趣就在于收获得快，而且付出就有收获。所谓种瓜得瓜、种豆得豆—最近我正在读张仲民老师的《种瓜得豆》，每次看到这本和种菜没有丝毫关系的书，我都想到我那些种菜的时光。而之所以种菜给我如此大的乐趣，是因为做学术和养孩子—占用了我百分之八十以上时间和心血的活动—出成果都奇慢无比。发一篇文章、出一本书，从落笔到付梓，动不动就是两三年。教育好一个孩子，更是需要漫长的时间。但是，你把一包豆子倒进下面带孔的塑料盒子里，放进下面不带孔的大塑料盒子里，往豆子上盖一张厨房用纸，撒上水—第二天起床，豆子就鼓起来了。第三天起床，豆子就长出带着白绒毛的小根了。一周后，绿油油的豌豆尖就五厘米高了。两周后，你在煮面或者煮火锅时，就可以往锅里扔一把清香扑鼻的豌豆尖了！莫非，这就是为什么学者都喜欢种菜的原因？不仅是因为喜欢，更是因为需要。或许这些绿油油的菜叶子来给自己坐冷板凳的漫长时光增添一些“急功近利”的愉悦感。
去年春天，我甚至在家附近租了一小块地，想要开始更大规模的种植。我们还游说了身边的好朋友，让他们和我们一起“合营”这块土地。那段日子忙碌并快乐着，体验了“合作种田”的趣味，收获了好多蔬菜，隔壁田地的英国老夫妻还送给我一个巨大的欧洲萝卜，我们足足吃了一周。
在我最痴迷种菜的那些日子里，我还加入了一个伦敦的种菜群，虽然我并不住在伦敦。群里有一个大家称为“村长”的神奇人物，对种菜的所有事情无所不知、无所不晓。大家种菜时遇到任何疑问，“村长”都能妥妥地帮你解答，回答得又热心又周到。大家都说，“村长”的存在提升了他们村子的幸福指数。后来我和村长也成为了朋友，发现他竟是牛津的一位学长，难怪天文地理、生物化学无所不知，还天天在自己家车库里搞灯光实验促进植物生长。这个种菜群也给我带来了很多快乐，群里北大、牛津、哈工大的牛人很多，但都对种菜养花兴致勃勃。大家因此也结下了许多友谊。有个热情的女孩就曾经送我许多菜苗，我也送了她许多种子和一棵鱼翅瓜苗。半年后，我自己的鱼翅瓜苗早被虫子吃掉，她的苗却结出了一个小小的鱼翅瓜。她特意托她丈夫给我带过来半个鱼翅瓜，然后我们在同一天晚上小心翼翼地把这半个小瓜精心烹饪成了晚餐。
爸妈见我痴迷种菜，时常开玩笑说我们是“洋插队”，跑到英国来学起了种菜。事实上，他们不知道，除了种菜，我们还热衷于养殖。
前年春天，我在送完老大上学，步行回家的时候，忽然听见急促的鸟叫声。我低头一看，一只很小的黑鸟在草地上蹦，估计是从鸟窝里掉出来了。我找了半天也没找到鸟窝和鸟妈，就把小鸟捧回了家。我找了个纸盒，铺上柔软的纸巾，给小鸟做了个家。那天下午，女儿回来后看到小鸟，激动得完全走不动路。无论我什么时候找她，都会发现她正小心翼翼地捧着那个大纸盒，跟小鸟说话。小鸟一开始不怎么吃东西，后来我上网查了半天资料，知道不能强迫它吃，而要把小米糊糊在它面前久久地端着，等它想明白了，就会自己来吃。果然如此。两天后，小鸟显得更加壮实活泼了。
正是这天，文博突然觉得应该让小鸟多听听外面的鸟叫声，感受一下大自然，就把盒子放到了花园一角的大树下。我们一家就出了门。几个小时后，我们回到家，花园里早已没有小鸟的踪影，只剩下一些绒毛。那时我们才知道，原来松鼠是会吃小鸟的，却只敢给女儿说小鸟学会了飞，飞去找妈妈了。
我在这件事的刺激下，差点就要开始养鸡，连鸡舍都看好了，农场都联系妥了。可是又深知根本没有时间和精力，然后又用了三天时间，生生把这个念头打压了下来。
春天，我从菜友那里得到了一大群蝌蚪，带回家养在了老二小时候的洗澡盆里。蝌蚪长大了之后，我们把它们带到了大池塘里放生。刚刚放走，就游来一只鸭子。老二如今已经会走会跳，看见鸭子要来吃她的蝌蚪了，急忙撵着她爸爸去赶走鸭子。很久以后，每次路过那个池塘，女儿们都要问，蝌蚪还在吗？被鸭子吃了吗？我们告诉她们，蝌蚪游得很快的，一定没事的。
秋天，苹果树上挂了很多红绿的果实，西梅树也结了不少果子。我一共有两棵西梅树，其中一棵是我室友的博士导师的妻子在我们刚刚安家的时候，亲自去花园中心买了送给我的。如今这棵西梅树都高过篱笆了。室友的博士导师已经去世七年了，但我和另一个在英国的室友还经常去看望他的妻子，并一起回忆当年那些搞笑的事情。
而如今的我已经不那么痴迷种菜了，一是院子里吃菜的虫子越来越多，而我不再愿意那么勇猛地半夜 10 点出门去抓虫了。更重要的是，随着年岁的增长，我逐渐接受了做学术需要坐的冷板凳，接受了论文投稿不断被拒、自身不断完善和不断成长的漫长历程，我也发现了孩子的成长其实比我想象的要快很多，不再那么心急了。种菜大抵完成了滋养我成长的过程，以后会逐渐从一种痴迷蜕变成小小的爱好了。
作者介绍
刘倩，四川成都人，华威大学现代语言与文化学院副教授，研究中国现当代文学、比较文学与翻译，博士毕业于牛津大学，曾任教于北京师范大学文学院。
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