Relative Something

Returning to the narrative of our Portugal Adventure, now describing our sixth day, Thursday, September 23…

In the morning, Cyndie had the intention of picking a few fresh peaches for her breakfast. On the way to the peach tree, she said hello to the horses and gave them grain. Then she headed around to the peach tree and discovered there were a great bunch of ripe peaches. She would need a bag to put them in. After a trek for the bag, she started gathering the fruit, only to find they were falling onto the rotten peaches lying in the manure fertilizing the tree, so she decided to collect some fresh ground cover to lay on top of that. Ian told her that any of the old straw accumulating around the outside of the stable area is fair game to use for that, so she began a chore of collecting it. Thus, in so doing, she ended up cleaning the entire area surrounding the stable and shade house, hauling wheelbarrows full of new ground cover. While cleaning, she came upon the fig tree that had grown into the shade house area and realized there were irresistible numbers of figs that were ripe for picking. She needed to get a ladder for that task. On the search for the ladder, she discovered the patio in front of the tool room deserved to be swept and the laundry needed to be put out. She was also looking for a pail with a handle, to use for collecting figs, but came up empty on that search. Left to using the original bag she had started with, she realized that the figs, added with the peaches, became too heavy and squished themselves when she picked up the bag, so she went for the wheelbarrow to hold all the fruit. That brought her back to the horses which alerted her, in their unique vocal way, that they were ready for their lunch. At that point she realized she had never gotten around to having her breakfast of fresh peaches. Such is the way any day can go here.