The blog comes with a health warning - as though we haven't had enough of those. Unless you have some interest in our flowers, our walks and our menagerie, you may find little of interest in what follows. Like most people, we have spent another week doing our utmost not to catch the corona-virus.
Having said which, while trimming the bushes and clipping the leafy almond saplings, I came across some truly wonderful flowers growing in a quiet corner of the park. At the time, Barbara was occupied elsewhere so I couldn't share my discovery with her. But after our afternoon walk, I led her down the path from the top gate to the cheese-wedge terrace to show her what I'd found.
She was as delighted as I was. For they are pyramid orchids, the first we have spotted in the property ( albeit that several other varieties are quite common). I was scolded for not giving my wife fair warning to remove the curler from her hair before taking pictures.
Here is a curler-free image of the orchids. There are about a dozen of them in various stages of maturity, growing close to the terrace wall. To come across flowers so beautiful and comparatively rare, quite made our afternoon.
Last weekend, we had Slavic take the strimmer to the greenery that sprouts each winter from the grouting between the cobbles. (This grouting is a weak cement and rock dust mixture, intended to allow for easy removal and replacement of cobbles in order to access the pipes below.) Jones (seen weeding) asked us not to strim the area near the main gate, where she fancies some of the plants. She ties ribbons around the special ones.
She is also fond of the giant fennel that springs up all over the show at this time of year. There are scores of these canes in the park. They grow with extraordinary vigour, towering into the sky. They can easily put on an inch a day - some three metres in a month. But as handsome as the they are, they're also a pain.
For they are just briefly spectacular before drying, dying and corpsing across the paths. Were they a little stronger, they might be useful for knocking down almonds or carobs. But they splinter on impact, good for little other than kindling.
The late rains have continued on and off, much to our relief and that of the dogs, who refresh themselves from our mid-walk rock pool. It's likely that the wild boar are equally familiar it. Although we never see the piggies, their nocturnal rootings are everywhere evident in the disturbed stones and scuffed soil.
We returned from a Benafim recycling run via the agricultural road that makes its way through the valley. For the first time in years there's water in the drainage ditches that run alongside the road. It's good to see because our water supply comes from the aquifers below and our garden gets very thirsty in summer. Our climate, like so many, is getting hotter and drier - not good news.
The wet spring has turned the valley floor into a flexing, silvery green carpet, with red and yellow motifs woven into the fabric. The cluster of houses towards the top of the picture is in the heart of Espargal.
Right now, our bean field is equally colourful, with the crop of fava beans largely lost among the wild flowers. There are still plenty of beans if one looks. Barbara picks half a bucket several times a week. I shell them, she cooks them and we eat them. They're delicious - all the more so for being home-grown.
In Amancil for our weekly shop, we joined a carefully spaced-out 30-minute queue at Aldi's capacious hypermarket. Numbers of shoppers are carefully controlled in all stores. A month ago, a few shelves carrying a few popular items were bare. Now there's no sign of any shortages - apart from hand sanitizer. About half the shoppers wear face masks. There's a debate over their usefulness here, as elsewhere.
On our return, we heard from Slavic that he had encountered Pally in the park giving a hard time to a large and very displeased snake. The little three-legger was dancing around the serpent, barking constantly as he does, while the snake reared up menacingly. The dog would not be distracted from his prize. After some time, the snake disappeared into the rocks. I hope that it has since found somewhere else to live. Fortunately, no harm came of the incident.
Such occasional scares aside, our animals give us no little amusement. Behold Mello camped in her favourite position, right in front of the fire.
Squinty cat also likes to stay warm; he decides that there's room for two.
The dog is not at all sure what to make of her feline companion.
And, after some minutes, decides to relinquish her front-row seat in favour of a nearby cushion.
Leaving Squinty to settle down in her place. Squinty's a cool guy, not in the least bothered by the dogs. He and Mini compete for my lap during my Netflix nights.
Some weeks ago Jonesy came across a weighty, curvaceous rock in the mato, far off the beaten track. She quite fancied it. But it was too heavy for me to lift without threatening my capricious back and there was no way to reach it on the tractor. So each afternoon for weeks, while I pressed ahead with the dogs, she lugged it another 10 or 15 metres towards the house.
Thursday: Slavic and I fetched the rock from beside the path that runs down from the hilltop. At Jones's bidding, we placed it in the circle of contemplation, where it appears to be perfectly content in the company of its equally striking fellows.
I sign off with the splendid standing stones of Espargal, silent witnesses - like the petrified souls of those who preceded us - to our twice-daily passage. Who knows? one day we may join them to gaze on those who follow in our footsteps.
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