It's been raining - wonderful wet stuff that spatters off the cobbles, fills the tubs arranged below the upper patio spouts, soaks into the long-parched soil and fattens the fava beans sprouting in our field.
Speaking of which, Jones has picked the first plateful - handsome, wholesome green seeds, cultivated by every Algarvian with a plot to the family name. One sows them in the autumn and picks them in late spring. The year's bounty depends principally on the rain, both its timing (preferably not when the plants are in bloom) and the amount. This year, it has come at just the right time.
On wet afternoons, instead of heading out into the mato (veld), we spend half an hour in the park, where we can meander along the mud-free concrete paths. As long as they have human company, the mutts are happy to catch up on the latest smells. For several years the field in view above has lain fallow. This spring it's rewarded us with a superb crop of wild flowers.
THE PARK
On such afternoons I like to experiment with the remarkable camera that is a feature of my new phone. It's replete with a host of software and options that I'm still getting to grips with.
One of the camera's features is its extraordinary zoom capability. The two photos above and the one below were all taken from the same spot. None of them has been cropped.
The picture retains much of its quality on full zoom, even when the photo size has been sharply reduced to accommodate the limitations of the blog. (Sorry, but there really hasn't been a lot to talk about this past week, and these are such crumbs as I have.)
Another feature - this is the last one, I promise - is the capability to take a 360* panoramic pan. This shot, showing our living room, is just 180*.
APRIL 1st: BARBARA DAWN:
Experimenting with the phone and immersing myself in the manual is proving a pleasant distraction from the impositions of our self-isolation. We still get out to the shops and occasionally to assist friends lacking transport. While the police are stationed at traffic circles to check on travellers, there is nothing of the lock-down ordered in France and Italy. As for our own circumstances, we could hardly ask for a more comfortable retreat from the virus-laden world without.
THE CLOUDS ARRIVE
Although the Algarve has recorded relatively few Covid-19 cases and deaths, they're certainly about. Loule had 14 cases last time I looked. The country's state of emergency has just been renewed for another 15 days.
On these wet afternoons, the best seats are those closest to the fire. The black shape beside Mello is Squinty cat, an easy-going feline who's perfectly happy to share the house with his fellow creatures.
The only problem arises at night, generally during a Netflix movie, when either he's in my lap on the recliner and Mini aims to share it - or vice versa. Squinty's claws are sharp and three is definitely a crowd.
Each day this week we have collared an unwilling Mello (one of the orphans we adopted years ago, who has never allowed anyone to touch her). Initially we wanted to discover why she was limping. (We're still not sure.) Subsequently we have embarked on a program of daily stroking, brushing and trimming, with lots of tasty reassuring treats, in a bid to properly domesticate her. It's too soon to report any progress.
On our last shopping expedition to Lidl, we acquired a bargain microwave oven to replace - at least temporarily - our defunct device. Slavic worked out that the problem with the old microwave arose from a broken plastic pin in the door that operated as a switch when the door was closed. The microwave has served us well down the years and may be reparable in due course - if due course ever comes.
HONEYSUCKLE
Thursday Slavic came to work. Although he appears to be perfectly healthy, we are now careful to maintain a polite distance as we labour. This Covid-19 crap doesn't fool around. Slavic and I spent several hours cutting back and clearing around the carob trees in the park, much of which closely resembles a jungle. (Check those park pictures again.)
BROOM
Jones took the opportunity to vacuum and mop the floors - the living room floor several times as the dogs rewarded her with another set of muddy footprints. She hates mucky floors. The main culprit is Russ, an exceedingly hairy fellow who picks up masses of mud in the hairs between the pads of his paws. Washing them down helps to diminish the problem but not to resolve it.
Enough unto the week. As you can see, our sufferings, while unwelcome, are perfectly tolerable. How families locked in tiny shacks or studio apartments manage, I shudder to think. I leave you with another Algarvian dawn from Barbara.
APRIL 2
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