SUNSET OVER MONCHIQUE MOUNTAIN~
As you can see, last week's smoke-choked air has cleared.
The raging fires that fanned out from Monchique have finally been extinguished, leaving vast acreages of skeletal black trees amid the ashes of people's homes and lives.
The effort now is to render assistance to the bewildered victims. Appeals have gone out for donations to emergency funds while teams of volunteers distribute food and clothing.
No longer focused on the western horizon, we have resumed our normal lives. As we set out on our walk last Saturday morning, the dogs sniffed suspiciously at a creature coiled just inside the gate. The serpentine visitor, for such it was, distrustful of the beasts, immediately slithered into the undergrowth beside the woodshed. There we left it as we went on our way.
On our return I equipped Slavic with our snake-gripper while I turned the hose on the undergrowth. As he was assuring me that the snake had already moved on, it shot out, heading for Casa Nada. Slavic, equally quick, managed to grab it by the tail. The snake, understandably upset at being thus grasped, made no attempt to hide its feelings. You can't explain to a snake that you mean it no harm and are merely intent on relocating it which, photographs taken, was exactly what we did. Dogs and snakes don't mix.
The day's big job was relaying the cobbles that we had removed two weeks earlier to replace the cracked t-joint on the water main. We reckoned that we'd given the foundations time enough to settle again. Slavic tapped the stones back into position before filling the cracks between them with a weak concrete mixture. Finally he are then tamped the surface down. Job done.
Twice during the week we have visited a small holiday apartment-and- restaurant complex on the fringes of Loule, once to dine with friends and once just to relax with Pricks over a glass of wine and a toasted sandwich while Natasha was busy in the house. (Age and disability have not reduced the little dog's insistence on a daily ride in the car!)
Light refreshments are available from the kiosk beside the pool. Pricks just loves the lawn, not a luxury that we can offer him at home. I confess that I rather like it myself. (That's my foot poking out bottom right.)
One can relax over a sandwich on the grass verge or settle down at tables on a dais under the trees, away from the hustle and bustle of the adjoining restaurant. The pool and its environs, which are intended primarily for vacationers staying at the holiday apartments, are little used and serve to provide a most pleasant setting.
Of an evening we have also dined out on our own front patio when the temperature has dropped from pant to bearable. Jonesy generally makes a large mixed salad. She arms herself with a baggie or we share a glass of wine, I light the anti-mozzie candles, the dogs gather around, Jones points out whatever planet has hoved into celestial view and we dine to the song of the cicadas or the magical call of the owl in the valley.
SECTION OF THE ELECTRICITY SWITCHBOARD
A long overdue task now accomplished is the interpretation of the scribble left on the main switchboard by the Portuguese electrician who installed it. This board (there's a small one upstairs and a third in Casa Nada) has three rows of switches, each with scrawled clues to their use. By dint of both guessing and testing, I have identified the purpose of all except three. Next time we see the electrician, I hope to pin those down as well.
TWO MERGED BLACKS CATS
On Wednesday, the feast of the Assumption of Mary into Heaven, the people of Portugal enjoyed a public holiday. Back in the days of yore when I was a good Marist brother it was an extra-special occasion when rules were relaxed - one we looked forward to during our years of training.
The belief that Mary's body was "assumed" into heaven remains an article of faith of the Catholic Church, one over which I have reflected a great deal (somewhat disbelievingly) down the years. Sadly, what makes news is not the church's beliefs but rather its abuses and the hierarchy that hid them for shame. I shudder at the revelations.
Jones, as ever, has been spending long hours in her garden. (Please take a moment to admire her Asclepia Curassavica.) From time to time she asks me whether I've noticed how she's cut this or that back and I promise to look carefully next time I pass. For what it's worth, for my part I join her in watering the garden daily as well as cutting back, mainly in the evening when I wander around the park, clippers in hand, with the dogs. They chivvy me on, impatient to reach the top where they get a treat.
Thursday dawned cloudy and much cooler, a welcome change from mid-30s temps. My orbiting body bumps heaved a (temporary) sigh of relief - the heat is due back at the weekend. We celebrated by picking more plums from our trees and sharing them, along with the veggies that Armenio brought us last night. Our carobs are now ripening and will soon be ready for picking in turn - when we shall be able to repay some of his generosity.
DAWN THURSDAY
Sufficient unto the week!
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