This blog will be reminiscent of those occasions when you were dragged along to an unfamiliar relative's house as a child and your heart sank as she pulled out a tome of a photo album the size of the Encyclopaedia Brittanica and went through each photo, one by one, with comments...
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| Alsace |
There are so many new words I have to find space for in my brain. "Lettuce" in Portuguese is alface and pronounced exactly like Alsace. Harry bought twelve plugs of alsace, sorry, alface, from Mr Paulo of The Truman Show fame (in addition to being an extra he sells plants as well as pet food), gave six to Mrs Fatima and potted the other six in this deep polystyrene tray which she gave him.
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| Pigmy Chickens |
In amongst her flock of chickens for eggs and meat, Mrs Fatima keeps this very cute couple (white hen and multicoloured cockerel) for her pleasure. Each morning she opens a slim gate at the front of their pen and all the chickens and chicks wander across the road into the giant field opposite with the horses. They hoover up insects and bugs before returning home for a siesta.
Me, feeling humorous: Why did the chicken cross the road?
Harry, deadly seriously: To eat the dog poo.
Me: Erm...
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Sunset Boulevard
Returning to Mrs Fatima's
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| Flowering Cactus |
We were momentarily amazed to see that this small supermarket in Almodôvar had cactus in flower before Harry spotted the glue holding the plastic flowers on! I wanted to complain to the cashier but she looked a bit prickly so I thought best to avoid the thorny issue.
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I adore this door in Almodôvar
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I am always captivated by this building beside the small supermarket and, in particular, by its door. I love the green in its many hues on the textured wood.
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| Alface a few days on |
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Sunset out front Mrs Fatima's
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| Mrs Fatima leads Harry down this garden path to pilfer bay leaves from the same tree she and her ascendants have pilfered from for generations |
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| After laurel-pinching Ichiro protests at having to return home |
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What, me?!
Yes! You! |
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The neighbours decide to make charcoal during the heatwave
The charcoal is forming in the small mound of earth |
I haven't quite got my head around how to make charcoal yet but it involves a lot of heat and time. I felt slightly nervy that during the period of highest fire risk this was going on next door.
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The sweetest, gentlest beast
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Ichiro can be as beastly as any human. Gorgeously sweet in this picture, you'd think butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. Some evenings earlier, Fatima, Ichiro and I were sitting on the wooden bench by her front door when Atrevido wandered over and the uncastrated dogs went for each other. In a flash there was thrashing and painful yelping as poor Atrevido's head disappeared inside Ichiro's mouth. Mrs Fatima joined in with her characteristic screaming-at-animals vocals before Splash! Mrs Fatima threw a bucket of water over us all which brought the brawl to an end. We were able to separate the mostly dry dogs who had been momentarily distracted by my exclamations at being drenched.
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| Later that week Atrevido shared his concerns about inflation and high interest rates with me |
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| "What goes up, must come down," I tell him. |
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| "Thanks, Hairy Human" |
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| It's a bit like watching paint dry except you get to eat it at the end |
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| Chicken Area (1) |
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Chicken Area (2)
Annex on the left. Chicken coop on the right. Gate straight ahead |
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| Chicken area at sunset with a beautiful band of cloud |
Spaces. I've been thinking about spaces. The spaces we create, the spaces we choose to be and move in, the spaces we avoid, the spaces we pass by, the spaces which make space (for things like writing a blog) and the spaces that don't leave a space or squeeze out the space.
The annex forms one of the boundaries for the chicken area at Mrs Fatima's and yet I seldom went into that space. I could see it from the kitchen window (a little less so once Harry's mosquito net frame went in) but didn't need to walk through it to get anywhere. On this evening I opened the gate by the annex front door, walked in and stood amongst them. I was reminded how peaceful being with scratching chickens is. I had the feeling, perhaps an illusion, that they scratched and pottered round their garden more peacefully, with their minds at rest because I was there to deter any threats, any predator. We made each other peaceful.
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| Belotas. These are the acorns which Iberia is famous for. In many parts of the peninsula a special breed of black pigs eat them, giving the pigs a distinctive flavour |
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| The rental house in Almodôvar during renovations |
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| Horny Harry |
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| Harry is not dancing but passionately explaining something I don't understand |
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| Finally, I get it |
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This picture brings new meaning to the phrase "I think the sun shines out of his arse"
Apologies to Harry
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| As the picture should appear |
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| Something I didn't know. Lettuces grow better out of direct sunlight, at least here. |
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| I'm not sure why I find this photo funny. It looks like the preamble to a joke, What did the spade say to the broom? |
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| Before the daily move into the shade |
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| My favourite view from Mrs Fatima's with the golden hill in the distance |
