Spring arrived on the first of March as if by appointment. The first flies buzzed into the house on the 2nd. Day temps have climbed into the low 20s while night temps are into double figures. It has become steadily more challenging to justify the fire around which we gather so pleasantly in the living room each evening. I've begun slapping sun cream on my face and hands before setting out on our morning walk.
For the first time this year we've had to park the car in the shade to keep the dogs cool rather than in the sun to keep them warm.
Natasha joined me in the park to cut back the trees and bushes that have been colonising the ground around them. I do most of the cutting and she piles the branches into heaps to be either burned or mulched. Any burning will have to await the next rains, of which there's no sign at present.
The ground is dry. Barbara daily bemoans the drought. In the afternoon she trots across to the Leonilde field with a pail of water for the three new fig trees - courtesy of Mr Palmeira -
On Sunday, aware that Idalecio was expecting guests with dogs, we put the brothers (Raymond and Bobby) on leads before we set out on our morning walk. It was a good move. On the far side of the hill we ran into the orphans, who greeted us with squeals of joy and promptly joined the party. Russ is always delighted to see them. Ono, Barri and Prickles do their best to ignore them; the brothers, while not overtly aggressive, remain both suspicious and curious, as though encountering interesting but low-class cousins from the far side of the track.
After brunch we hitched up the trailer and drove west to Guia in order to purchase two more fencing panels from Leroy Merlin. We planned to use them as gates on the right-of-way that runs down to Idalecio in the hope that these would discourage the orphans from visiting his cottages and their occupants during their daily tours of the village.
No such luck, needless to say. The orphans dropped into his property as usual from the back and then got vociferously stuck on the wrong side of the gates as they tried to return.
The little dogs have become quite possessive of their patch.
They burst into a volley of high-pitched shrieks at any perceived alarm or intrusion. A party of hikers who passed our gate on the way down from the hilltop with a boxer on a lead got a good barking for their temerity.
I waved to them from the upper patio to indicate that it was all sound and fury signifying nothing.
Attempting to dispel a firmly-rooted May myth is not a challenge for the faint-hearted. I explained to her that the batteries had nothing to do with the picture quality. On reflection I might just have removed them to make the point. We chose instead to buy her a battery tester to allow her to check the charge of existing batteries before she discarded them.
She took us through to her kitchen where, to my surprise, she had laid out several dozen (perfectly good) discarded batteries on the counter prior to disposing of them.
I tested half a dozen while she watched, holding the device up to show her the positive results, before leaving her to test the rest for herself.
I think we arrived just in time. Zeus alone knows what she's been spending on batteries these past months.
On Tuesday we walked late, setting off after 09.00, as agreed with Idalecio's guests; they take their own dogs out before that. The couple, professional cyclists who come to the Algarve each spring to coach aspirants, have three adorable little spaniels, far too sweet to mix with our common mutts.
I spent a couple of hours working with Natasha in the park before heading to Alte for a session with Jodi. It's been something of a sciatic week and I was grateful for her services.
Last week Jodi confided that one of her dogs was missing, causing great heart ache. It had disappeared while out with her husband on an early morning run. Subsequently he found the body in the veld. It would seem that she had eaten poison.
Sadly, now that the hunting season is over, the scattering of poison - aimed at foxes and similar predators that take the hunters' rabbits - is not uncommon. I would consign poisoners, together with people who abandon their animals, to one of the innermost circles of hell and ensure that the heat was turned up.
Wednesday I went with Natasha on our annual visit to the accountant in Benafim. He looks after both the social security report that I have to file on her behalf and her income tax submission. His large office and two assistants, along with their desks, all but drown under the masses of files and piles of paper that fill the office.
When a phone rings, they sometimes have to scrabble under the paperwork to find the instrument. I hope that the accountant is well insured against fire.
The new front door continues to impress and satisfy. It was a great investment. We have sticky-taped open the cat flap to encourage the felines to use it. Braveheart and his sister have taken to it with just a little encouragement. Squinty remains to be convinced.
(Barbara, checking my script, opines that even the weeds are not up to scratch this year.)
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