Letter from Espargal: 17 January 2020

Last week now seems very far away while the week before it has vanished entirely into the mists of time - the approaching fate of the almond blossom, now clustered like stars in the Milky Way.



Under the circumstances, kindly forgive a blossomy blog. Jonesy captured something of their transient glory



as she made her way down the path to feed the anxiously waiting waifs



before gusting showers scattered the blossom around the far reaches of the garden.



To my great regret, I failed one morning to take a photo of Estevao, a kitted-out mountain biker whom we encountered on our path through the hills. He got a good barking from the surprised dogs before we greeted him apologetically and, after a pleasant chat, directed him on his way. Happily, we seldom share our paths with visitors other than nature's nocturnal denizens.



On Sunday our neighbour, Sven, a professional gardener, arrived to begin pruning the almonds and fruit trees.



Slavic collected the off-cuts and piled them in the tractor box.



And assisted me to put them through the mulcher, a more testing task than it might seem, given the juddering vibration from the spinning blades.



As usual, most of our evenings were given over to TV, both Netflix and the usual channels



while the beasts, like the lion and the lamb, settled down peacefully around the fire



in preparation for a good night's sleep.



or just a little love in.



Thursday Slavic and I hunted around the garden for the best spot for an inflatable jacuzzi (the most basic model available) that I have ordered from Leroy Merlin, the better to please my demanding back. Amidst the trees, flowers and rock tumble, it was no easy choice.



Then we worked on lining sections of the path through the park where soil was washing down, serving the dual purpose of removing the stones from the surrounding fields. Espargal gets its name from the wild thorny asparagus plants that are found everywhere. It might equally have been called Rockville or Stoneyhill.



Last night's showers turned Friday morning's paths treacherous. I inched my way forward across glistening rocks, a steadying stick in either hand.



But see the magic spell cast over the narcissus blooms (Barbara's picture)



and the lichen in the olive trees.



OK, that's enough for today.