Letter from Espargal: 11 July 2020

Sunday evening Jones called me on to the upstairs balcony to behold a glorious moon and (a rather outshone) Jupiter close by - just visible in the photo at "11.00". It was indeed an impressive sight. I'm not sure why the picture shows beams radiating from the moon top and bottom. My phone camera has a night setting that I'm still experimenting with.



Rather more impressive is Barbara's moon-shot with our real camera, which doesn't get much use these days. At full zoom the camera tends to hunt around for something to focus on. Every now and then it gets things exactly right. Barbara has a thing about the moon, as you may have gathered. I suspect that it was full the day that she was born.



Monday a digger started levelling the plot (across the road from ours) where our neighbour Idalecio is planning to build his new house. He has been waiting for a building licence to begin work. That's the village's water "deposito" (in white) just above the plot.



Just around the corner, our plum trees are doing us proud. Apart from our own pickings, we have received a load of lemons, courtesy of neighbours. Barbara has stocked up with brown sugar with a view to producing an ample supply of marmalade along with bowls of stewed plums. Pots are bubbling away on the stove as I write and seductive smells are rising from the kitchen.



Leroy Merlin has at last contacted me re last week's saga, the undelivered wooden shed. The nub of the problem appears to be that although there is a kit in-store, it either lacks parts or is damaged or both. The assistant who rang wasn't sure. She said a colleague would call me with the details. It would be available at a discount if I wanted it; alternatively, I would have to wait several months for another. I wait to hear more.



Monday afternoon the sky turned an ashen grey as distant plume of smoke heralded a big wild fire north west of us. The fire service's online map (the excellent fogos.pt) pointed to a serious blaze in the Sao Marcos area, about an hour's drive away.



It burned fiercely into the evening, filling the air with the stench of burning scrub and smearing the western horizon an ominous oily orange.



Tuesday morning - helicopters bearing water bags clattered overhead once more. The fire season is well and truly upon us. These past few days it's been stinking hot, with temps soaring into the upper 30s although fortunately there has been little wind to fan the flames.



Mello dives into her pool the moment we get back from the morning walk - and at any other time she feels inclined. The others tend to drink from it, often with their front paws immersed.



At the human pool, close by, the water temperature has reached a dizzy C30*, not far short of the jacuzzi. A downside of the heat has been the number of bees that alight on the water to refresh themselves and are then unable to take off again.



So many were in need of rescue that we decided to put the disintegrating summer cover back on while we await the delivery of a new one at the end of this month. Each afternoon we fish out a dozen or more struggling bees, along with a host of other insects. It's jolly hard to swim vigorously while they're buzzing around.



Tuesday I visited Jodi to get my toenails clipped (as they have been these past several years beyond my reach). At the same time I popped into the Alte post office where I was delighted to find three Amazon parcels waiting for me. Cristina, the post mistress, had suggested that I direct our online orders there after so many had gone astray - allegedly because the CTT-expresso courier couldn't find our house.


PROPOSED SHED
Leroy Merlin called again, this time offering me a short video of the "damaged" shed and a discount. All I could see is some discolouration in the timber. It looks like water staining. So I've expressed a strong interest. The only question is whether all the pieces are present. The assistant can't be sure. He says they're totally out of kits for sheds of all sizes at present as these are imported and national borders have been closed by Covid for months.



As I finished watering the garden late on Tuesday, the hose caught a small pot holding a succulent. Instinctively I grabbed the plant to save it from toppling over. Next time it can fall! The fleshy leaves are spear-tipped and really mean. Not that the minute lesions testifying to my painful punctures will earn me much sympathy - a case of inverse proportions. (Post Script: Barbara is similarly punctured after losing an argument with a rose bush - although I can't think that she suffered as much!)



Our thanks go to Marie and Olly for passing on Poppy's possessions. Both Squinty (in situ) and Mini have been making good use of her bed. Still on the animal front,  Barbara has been making several visits a day to Sarah and David's cottage in the hope of seeing (and feeding) Not Robbie, who has disappeared. I fear that the omens are not good. Stray cats are not known for their kindness to their fellows.



Wednesday morning a man from the council turned up to follow up our request for another water meter (to install a separate supply for Casa Nada and our field). A useful chat ensued at the bottom of the garden as the procedure is complicated.



Thursday: to hold a second meter,  Slavic built the standard plastic box into the wall beside the existing one. We now have to inform the council that it can make the connection. They drill appropriate holes through the walls of the box and set up the pipework. Then we have to apply for and pay for the meter to go inside the box -before completing the plaster surround. Then we have to cut a small channel all the way up the drive to take the pipe to Casa Nada. Then we......(to be continued).


SPONGING DOWN HIS HANDIWORK
Also Thursday Slavic laid the pavers along the front of the slab intended to take the wooden shed.



He did a fine job, even managing (with a pig of an angle grinder) to shape the final paver to fit around the pole at the end. I've watered the new concrete to slow down the drying process in the heat. Now we wait (once again) for the delivery of the shed, this time, due on Wednesday.



The final job was to build a short paver-path to access the two bird baths in the south garden, replacing the rather hazardous tree-stump segments that used to disappear under foliage in winter.


NO, IT'S NOT A HAT OR A HAIRSTYLE, IT'S A SUCCULENT!
It's an area where Jones is often to be found working away at her plants.  One day, she says, she will get the garden looking the way she wants it to. It won't be today because Pally has ripped out a host of succulents. Jones says he doesn't deserve his supper, an empty threat if ever I heard one. One way and another it's been a busy week - of which I have said sufficient.

Letter from Espargal: 4 July 2020

Editor's note: This week's blog is largely about our projects, which are described and illustrated at some length. Readers will be forgiven for skipping through numerous pictures of our preparations to site a wooden hut in our field.



But I begin with our plum picking. This tree at the corner of our field is straining under the burden of a particularly fine crop. What's more, we got to the fruit before the birds did. The easiest way to reach up into the higher branches was either via the raised tractor box or the ladder.



There, not bad for an hour's work. They're delicious too. Barbara stews them and what we don't consume now goes into the freezer for another day.



The next big harvest - more plum trees aside - will be the carobs. The big green beans will blacken over the next few weeks and be ready for picking shortly afterwards.



But that's for the future. This week's big project has been converting the old pen (in which we first kept the orphans), adjacent to the exterior car port, into a suitable site for a wooden shed. Slavic arrived with his beefy mate, Alexander, early on Sunday to set about it. Although they started early, the heat of the day soon caught up with them. The sloping pen was five metres square with a fall of about half a metre. Levelling it up was a much bigger job than we anticipated, mainly because we hit a large rock just below the surface. Lacking a pneumatic hammer, our only option was to bash it - and a great deal of bashing it took - the best part of a very sweaty hour.



With the site roughly levelled, we set about burying the rock fragments and covering the area with gravel, which we hosed down thoroughly in preparation for its concrete topping.



Slavic set several concrete bricks into the gravel to get his levels. The second load of materials I'd ordered didn't turn up in time,



leaving us to finish the fringes later. A roll of heavy fencing wire served to reinforce the concrete slab, not that it will have to bear much weight.



Barbara had thoughtfully put a couple of hamburgers in our shopping basket in anticipation that the workers might be hungry. They certainly were.



While we were at it, Barbara and I cut back the huge agarve on the fringes, taking great care as she did so. Each of those fleshy leaves is fringed with thorns and nosed with a needle-sharp point. And the "juice" from the plant burns the skin. (Barbara needed some soothing lotion applied afterwards.) Pruning encourages the agarve to grow upwards rather than out.



Wednesday we took Liz Brown to lunch at one of the snack bars along the Cabanas village foreshore. There was a sprinkling of tourists, mainly British, surveying the pavement snack bars and idling along the boardwalk.



We stayed well away from an establishment at the far end which had been the scene of a minor covid19 scare. Portugal is coming to terms with several outbreaks just as the tourist season gets underway. Not good, especially as it will not be on the list of "green destinations" approved by the UK.



We were saddened to hear that one of our favourite guests, Poppy, had been diagnosed with cancer, and it was thought kindest to put her down. RIP Poppy. We loved you and we will miss you.



Thursday Slavic returned to complete the concrete slab.



The pavers sitting under the watering can are intended to line the front of the slab in due course.



An aside: I had inadvertently allowed an assistant at Leroy Merlin to load the pavers into the boot of the car without being aware of a plastic bag holding a custard tart and goat's milk cheese. Misshapen as these delicacies were when we rescued them, they tasted just fine.



The last jobs were to line the rear wall with a concrete skirting where the earth had been exposed, and to secure the netting. Now we await the delivery of the materials for the wooden hut  - (falsely) promised by Leroy Merlin for today - for which all the preparatory work has been intended.


TIME TO FEED THE BIRDS
Friday afternoon - after shopping and lunch with friends. No delivery yet. I've just spent half an hour trying to follow up on the store's website, first in a "chat" with the so-called (utterly useless) "virtual assistant" (which was very sorry that it didn't understand my questions). It offered me the option of talking to a real assistant before apologising that none were available.



Saturday pm: Last word. We are back from Leroy Merlin to inquire about our non delivery. A young woman, who could not have been less concerned, said they were waiting on the supplier and it wasn't the shop's problem. (Not very) sorry about that!. I have to remind myself that it's sensible not to get oneself worked up about little things that really don't matter one way or another, however irritating.

Letter from Espargal: 27 June 2020

STORKS IN LOULE
It's been the week that was. For a start, here's a change from cats and dogs. As we returned from Leroy Merlin on Saturday I circled the block in the car so that Jones could hop out to take a picture of the storks on their nest. Also present but out of sight is baby stork. If one were to take the old road to Lisbon, one would find such a nest atop every electricity pylon along the route.



After shopping we dropped around on the tractor with a packet of chocolate biscuits for Joaquim and Maria. Poor Joaquim is suffering from both arthritis and sciatica, maladies of which I've had a taste. But he joined us for a little neighbourly conversation over a glass of honey-flavoured medronho. (It's delicious.) We were pleased to see that, their frisky highly-excitable bitch, Iris (pronounced "e-rees"), is settling down. She actually came to us to be petted. Her looks are striking, with one blue eye and one brown (heterochromia iridis).


VENUS HIGH IN THE DAWN SKY
Sunday, en route to the Hamburgo for supper with the gang, we stopped to free our latest ratty captive at the road side. Ratty scampered off into the long grass on the verges where he'll have to take his chances with the snakes. At the restaurant our party made up one of only two interior tables although there were other diners outside - thin pickings! Manuel is hoping for an influx of holiday makers next month. He needs them and we need him to stay open.



Monday I dropped the car off with Vitor for its annual service and road-worthiness inspection. At the same time he'll put in the new battery it needs before dropping the car back this evening. Truly, it's VIP service. The previous battery lasted five years so we can't complain. We cut our early dog walk short as the temperature was close to C*30 by the time we set out. Summer's here. At least the pool is inviting.


ASIAN HORNET
Speaking of which, while fishing out the inevitable drowning insects, I came across a large creature that I've not seen before. It was, I regret to say, an Asian hornet, an invasive species that has been working its way westward across Europe. The insect is a real threat to the existence of bees, on which it feeds. The Iberian authorities have been going to great lengths to destroy the invaders' nests. I shall certainly do the same if I come across one. Meanwhile, I may need to put up my wasp traps once again.



Still Monday, there was a frenzy of excitement as (three-legged) Pally put up a small rabbit. The little creature shot across the path and down the hill in a furry blur with six well-fed, clamorous dogs on its heels. They loved the chase - not that the rabbit was in any danger - and returned sparkly eyed and panting with pride. Of more interest was simply the fact of the rabbit. It was the first we've seen in yonks. The species was almost wiped out by viral hemorrhagic disease some years ago.



After breakfast the house turns quiet as pets seek out cool places to sleep away the heat of the day. Jones disappears into the garden where (she insisted I make clear) there is always work to do; I occupy myself in the study, grateful for our heavily-insulated home and for the quiet air conditioners that we put in a few years ago.



Tuesday morning a helicopter circled low over the village before heading off across the valley in the direction of Alte. I was slow with the camera and managed only a distant shot. (My midnight jacuzzi was disturbed by another that clattered overhead).  Helicopters are frequent visitors during the fire season, which is well underway.



Also Tuesday we made a coffee stop at our favourite (nearly empty) snack bar after dropping off the dogs' ID books (with vaccination records) with the vet in preparation for a visit tomorrow. Then I spent an hour standing on the threshold of the council "shop", clutching a file and waiting to speak to the solitary clerk on duty (there are usually three) about a water connection for Casa Nada. (All visitors are required to "safe-distance" in the sun while waiting their turn.) The clerk gave me a form that I need to fill in and present to another council office before returning to his office to fill in more forms! Bureaucrats rule!



On several evenings we have taken Jones's salad supper on to the front patio, with the ever hopeful dogs scattered about us. Apart from the occasional yapping of village mutts, there is just the background murmur of crepuscular creatures to accompany us. The evenings are pleasantly warm, the mosquitoes are few and a glass of cold spritzered Borba white wine tastes extra good.



Much of Wednesday morning I spent strimming the park with Slavic before taking Barbara to a favourite snack bar on the outskirts of Tor for a sandwich while Natasha set about the house. Friends call it The Old Geezer bar because there are always half a dozen rustic locals on the patio engaged in loud conversation between relieving sips of their beers. Even though they are within comfortable whispering distance, they seem to feel the need to out-bellow one another. Wednesday was no exception. The sandwich was delicious.



On the way home we took a diversion to look at developments at the Quinta da Ombria, the huge new luxury estate that is taking shape on the far side of Tor. The golf course was looking immaculate -  those greens and fairways that we could see from the road. No doubt the skeletal structures rising behind it will look equally impressive in due course. The place is being advertised as a rich man's retreat. Jonesy hates it. She preferred it the way nature had it. I shrug.



Wednesday evening the vet & assistant arrived to give the dogs their annual shots. If I make it sound simple, I do myself a disfavour. First and foremost we had to get Mello inside the house where we could secure her. It's not an occasion that the dogs look forward to; nor, for that matter, do we. Much blandishment and distraction activity are called for.



This year was particularly complicated because new legislation requires that all dogs being vaccinated against rabies (required every third year by law) must now be chipped. We weren't sure whether any of ours were so - in fact, only Bobby was; thus two lots of injections were required all round.


RUSS & MINI POISED TO POUNCE ON ANY BISCUITS BARRI MIGHT LEAVE
For months I have been receiving spam emails from various Republican politicians in the US, warning me of the dangers of the liberal left and appealing to me to donate to their rightful causes. Now the Democrats have joined the fray. Nary a day passes when Nancy Pelosi and Joe Biden don't urge me to help them unseat the unsavoury occupant of the White House (a cause towards which I might feel more sympathetic). Between their appeals, lustful invitations and daily reminders of generous additions to my Bitcoin account, my spam folder overflows.