I haven't the energy to write anything sensible this week, especially as it was much the same as last week and the week before that, but here are some pictures that we took. This one shows a blue moon - at least, that was what the radio said. You hear some strange stuff on the radio, like Mitt promising to create 12 million jobs.
On Tuesday we went to the airport to meet Walker, son of Nancy and Brian, London colleagues of Barbara at NBC. With us came the usual suspects, Ono and Prickles, as well as Russ, who was making his first visit to the airport. We waited outside the golf-hire shop. Walker had grown since last we saw him - several feet.
He got a pretty barky reception from the rest of the gang when we got home. But after giving him a good sniff and a few licks, they decided to let him stay. The idea is that he will do some work around the place for the next week, before going off to join a friend upcountry. We have got in a good supply of beers in the meanwhile.
The first job was to bring in the rest of the carobs and to clear the thorns from under the trees, a task we should have performed long ago. Walker likes to whack out the thorny wild asparagus with a small axe. It's this wild asparagus that gives Espargal its name. I like to think that I did my share of clearing and picking.
I find it easier to work on my knees, possibly a hang-over from my monkish days. We managed to collect two tractor loads that have since been delivered down the road. We showed Walker the cavernous interior of one of the carob-milling warehouses, full of black dust and syrupy smells.
On Wednesday Rui arrived with three tons of firewood and two workers. The deal was that his team would first unload the wood into my tractor and then stack it again in the woodshed. The wood comes from the Alentejo - mainly varieties of oak. Two or three logs are sufficient to warm the house on a cold evening.
It took ten tractor loads and two hours of hard labour to get the job done, up and down, up and down. But that was a great improvement on last year when I did it all myself; it took three days and I couldn't stand up straight for a week.
Outside the woodshed, we formed a human chain to pass the wood in, a piece at a time, to the stacker. Three tons is a lot of firewood. Several bottles of water were required to refresh the workers and cans of beer afterwards to thank them.
I love this picture of clouds over the landscape - one of Jones's best. She's really getting to grips with the new camera. The zoom is extraordinary although the camera sometimes takes a while to figure out what it is that the picture-taker is trying to focus on.
This is another of her pictures, of a mantis that we found minding his own business under a carob tree. They and the numerous stick insects are all but invisible in their camouflage. We try not to harm them as we fill our buckets with carobs. The bothersome flies we harm as much as possible.
Also discovered in the bushes - a few days earlier - was Kayleigh, although she was picking up carobs and we stuck this picture in just because we liked it. She's enviously photogenic. Come back again next year, Kayleigh! We miss you already.
Between bringing in carobs and stacking firewood we took ourselves to the Coral for refreshment. Brigitte does brilliant kebabs and curried chicken. On a warm evening, with a bottle of wine and good company for cheer, they're unbeatable. What we don't consume we bring home again, to share with the dogs.
Sometimes bottles of wine are the very devil to open, not that Celso will let a bottle defeat him. This one put up a brief struggle before giving up its cork. Celso has got to know our preferences and has the appropriate wines chilled in anticipation of our arrival. That's what you call service.
Another time we lunched at the Hamburgo, at the other end of Benafim, with friends, David and Dagmar, their son Stefan and wife Jane, and grandchildren. As you can see, lunching al fresco at the Hamburgo is just as pleasant as supping at the Coral.
Here's the proprietor's daughter, Salina, who took a shine to Russ. Salina is eight years old and has two horses. She chats to clients or, even better, plays with their kids while mum cooks and dad serves. By the way, September is here at last. Roll on Autumn!
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