It's been another slushy week - not that we're complaining. And if we have had to do a lot of dog-drying and paw-wiping, there've been compensations -
WHAT A BEAUTY!
- such as a rainbow with pots of gold at both ends. And a blackbird singing his heart out on our phone pole.
The weather clearly didn't worry the wild boar that rove our paths at night. Although we never see them, they stamp the earth with their passage.
Saturday morning, the sun shone - mostly. After doing the recycling, we continued to Alte for coffee and cake at Rosa's cafe - our favourite. Rosa and her husband have been running it for as long as anyone can remember. Then we went walking, shrugging off a spot of drizzle. Others were taking no chances.
In summer this area is thronged with youngsters when the local authorities turn the ditch into a public swimming pool by closing the sluice gates.
In winter there's just the occasional family barbecue along the banks.
Spectacular stones pose for pictures along the way.
And a platoon of tabbies begs for scraps. They made short work of the dog treats we had in our pockets.
The stream that flows through the town originates from two springs at the foot of the hill.
In the main street Saturday shoppers were heading home. Such rear-seat passengers are not uncommon, especially in the carob-gathering season when the passenger is often to be seen seated atop a mountain of bulging sacks.
Another visit was to the Benafim community centre and retirement home. We like to take the folks a little cheer each Christmas. Most of them busy themselves with knitting and making small items of felt. Their paintings adorn their walls. Indeed we have several on ours, five and ten euro investments in Portuguese art!
Sunday we had a visit from our neighbour Joachim and his grandson Joao. The issue was what to do about a semi-functioning iPad with a cracked screen that Joachim had been given. I'd had an attempt at setting it up with little success. Joao said he'd repaired similar damaged models and thought he could replace the touch-screen.
Harmony is four dogs and two cats gathered around a fire on a cool night. I lost my balance while kneeling to add a log to the stove one evening. Ouch! A very hot ouch! Jones smeared muti on the sore bits.
Monday afternoon we returned from a shopping trip to find smoke billowing up from Jonesy's compost heap. (There she is, framed in the gap in the trees.)
Ash - it looked completely dead - from the living room stove had set the interior of the heap alight - and the deep-seated fire in the dense vegetable matter proved really difficult to extinguish. The danger was to a couple of trees.
In spite of the week's showers, it took us 30 minutes to soak the heap sufficiently to quell the fire - and it still required further attention later. Apart from muddied shoes, no harm was done!
Tuesday afternoon we slid off round the hills with the dogs while Natasha finished up in the house - not that her floors stayed immaculate for long.
STONE WALL COLLAPSE AFTER THE RAIN
She'll be away for the next fortnight in Tokyo where (her son) Alex is part of a Portuguese junior gymnastics team.
Wednesday morning brought the upholsterer with the sofa that Jack - our big canine guest - had gnawed during his stay. It's the upper arm rest that's been restored. Although the repair is not identical, it's close enough to pass muster.
There was no rush to get it back, we told the repairers, when we took it down in the spring, and they took us at our word. I thought the driver would arrive with a mate to help carry the sofa inside. But as he came alone, the dogs and I lent a hand.
Thursday Slavic came. We took the tractor down to the valley to load a pile of rocks. Then we lined those sections of the path where soil had been washing down across the concrete. It was hard work carrying rocks and concrete up and down the paths. That was in the morning.
In the afternoon we burned off last year's cuttings. This was one of four piles around the property. They were all damp and, unlike the compost heap, not at all eager to catch alight. But the day was ideal and the bombeiros gave us the go-ahead.
Jones wonders what the alternatives are. She hates resorting to fires. I'm on her side. The smaller branches go through the shredder. But there's masses of stuff for which we've found no other solution. And it's better to burn it under control in winter than to risk a blaze in summer.
TOWARDS THE END OF A HARD DAY
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