Relative Something

It was a little warmer sleeping on Tuesday night. Not such a chill in the air. We have been waking about 7 or 7:30 in the mornings, and today, Wednesday, September 22nd, is no different. The first thing we do is look out the window beside our bed to see if the sun is appearing over the far side of the ridge.

I write for a while in my journal, and then we wander over to the main house at about the same time Ian is coming out to tend to the horses. Cyndie has just fed them, so Ian focuses on cleaning out their stalls. I bring my computer over and sit on the front porch to look up the Carolyn Resnick audio segment Ian had recommended, and we all take a moment together to listen to it. The next order of business is getting the brush cutter in to be looked at again, so Ian and I did that errand while Cyndie took her book and sat with Frida and read, eventually getting the halter back on.

When we got back, Ian helped Cyndie to ride Lucy and Doll. One at a time, each horse was saddled and then was taken for some exercises in the circle and the area of the figure eights. While I crouched to watch the activity, the cat climbed up on my lap and then on to my head. The little guy doesn’t shy away from anyone or anything. While they continued to work with the horses, I wandered a bit and took pictures of the main house and surrounding area. After the riding, Cyndie went in to make lunch (sautéed brussel sprouts and peppers with some minced beef which she served over pasta) and Ian and I picked some grapes to made juice out of them. What a fantastic treat fresh grape juice is!

After lunch, Cyndie and Ian spent time allowing Lucy to accept her harness and then walked the horses down to the bottom field. First, Lucy and Frida, and then Doll and Sebastian. I took the opportunity to wander some more and take more pictures of the bounty and wonder of this paradise.

By this time in the afternoon, we were expecting a visit from Patricia’s friend, Margarida. She arrived with her boyfriend, Nuno. Cyndie was preparing a snack for their visit and they arrived with many treats of their own. My favorite was a freshly prepared home-made meat sandwich, but there were also a good number of traditional sweets presented.

Cyndie connected immediately with Margarida. After eating and visiting around the table on the porch, the girls moved up by the pool and Cyndie performed a Rieki massage for Margarida and had her select some cards for a “Path of the Soul” reading. Meanwhile, I passed the time playing guitar for Ian and Nuno. Before long, we were all walking down to the bottom field so they could say hello to the horses. With that accomplished, it was time for them to get back to Porto, so it was actually a rather brief visit. Margarida and Cyndie appeared to make quite a connection, which is just what the Rowcliffes sensed was possible when they arranged for the meeting. By evening, Margarida had already sent Cyndie an email, and Cyndie was able to respond with promised results of the cards Margarida had selected. Cyndie is also planning to do a Numerology reading for her. We feel particularly grateful for the opportunity to have spent time with them both. It really expands our experience here in a special way.

After they departed, Ian and I made a run back to Alfredo’s to pick up the cutter, and Cyndie was going to bring the horses up. We got back and took a little walk so I could show Ian some of the bounty of grapes I had discovered on my earlier walk. I also pointed out the large number of chestnuts that were on the ground under one of the big trees. With no sign of Cyndie and the horses yet, we walked down in the increasing darkness to find her. She was waiting at the gate for the horses to behave and allow her to get Lucy and Frida out first. We assisted in facilitating the agenda, with my role being, for the third time in 3 days, to wait with Doll and Sebastian for five minutes before letting them through the gate to head up on their own.

Cyndie described her ‘horse moment’ of the day was achieving successful voice command of Doll and Sebastian to get them to back up. She described it in a way that reminded me of the “Narpa moment” that Julian had on our dogsled expedition when the kids were little. Gaining control over the sled-dog, Narpa, was a lot like gaining control over a horse.

After I let the horses out, I walked up alone, in the dark, and checked with Ian to learn if everything went alright, wondering about my timing of releasing the second two horses. His response was about the cat! The only thing that went wrong was that the cat had gotten into some of the really excellent bread that Margarida had brought. I took that to imply the timing of the horses was fine. He was kind of amazed that the cat was so fond of bread. The rest of the little loaf was distributed to the cat and dogs, in addition to their regular food which had been neglected, perhaps because we didn’t sit down for an evening meal. We had eaten lunch late and then had more food shortly thereafter when company arrived, so none of us had need for anything more this day.

We needed to bring in the figs that were out for drying, discovering limited progress toward that goal, and then rushed through some dish washing to give Ian some space. We returned to our cottage by about 9:00. I processed the day’s pictures and then posted a few to Ian’s LifeStory and discovered he was doing the same. Finally turned in for sleep shortly after eleven, …I think.

It is the middle of our 4th day and we have just returned to the farm with the grape-press borrowed from Carlos. While talking with Carlos about it, Ian learns we need to paint over any exposed metal that might contaminate the juice of the grapes. We make another run to town, first to check at Carlos’ service station to see if he had any leftover paint, then, when he doesn’t find any, to buy what we need. I get to experience the hardware store, which has a tiny space for customers just inside the door, and a service counter surrounded by a wide variety of merchandise. There are also a fair amount of products displayed on the sidewalk in front of the door. The store receives a steady stream of business, before and after our transaction.

I supervise Ian’s painting efforts and then we pause for lunch. It is possible that it was the other way around, as by day’s end, I’m finding I’ve lost confidence in my recollection of the chronology. The day just flies by and we move from one thing to another without much pause, though it never seems unreasonable or rushed. In fact, all the activity unfolds at a very comfortable pace, and Ian is always very pleasant and talkative. Lunch was pot roast that turned out pretty much as Cyndie had intended. She was relieved, since she had selected an unknown cut of meat and was cooking with whatever she happened to discover in their kitchen. I never doubted her for a minute.

After the grape press is painted, Cyndie receives further instructions from Ian on caring for the horses. She is planning on moving them down to the bottom field. Ian and I set off to cut the growth that has consumed the area around the spring on the far side of the property. It is a tremendous task, as the thicket of “bramble” climbs twice as high as we are tall. The cutting process covers me with dust from the shredded dead, dry stalks and I look quite a sight. Ian tells me that if Victoria saw me she would be upset with him for letting me get into such messy work. We finally find the old spring, but it is not clear what state it is in. It may need some digging out, or it could be low due to the dry spell currently happening. Either way, it is a treasure we have unveiled.

The brush cutter I was using was working fine until it ran out of gas. After I filled it, we were back to the old problem of the engine balking when I would give it gas. We get it to run just enough for me to try again, while attempting to keep the blade spinning at a pretty high RPM. When it kills on me again, we decide to call it a day. We are left with just a small portion unfinished. After we drop off the cutting machines in the tool room, Ian and I head down to the bottom field to bring up the horses. He walks Lucy, allowing Frida to follow on her own. Just like the day before, I wait 5 minutes and then open the gate and let Doll and Sebastian head up on their own. Then I walk into the field and pick up Cyndie’s book, reading glasses, and the chair she had been sitting in this afternoon while the horses grazed.

Our work fills daylight everyday and we end up eating the evening meal around 8 or 9 at night. I delay dinner this night, as I take a while to shower and free myself of the day’s accumulated grime. The dusty work has irritated my eyes and filled my lungs. It is both wonderful and a bit miserable. Cyndie made a pizza in a glass baking pan and has also baked ginger cookies. (All this, while also tending to the horses!) We explore our differences over calling them biscuits or cookies, and Ian marvels that she prepared both soft and crisp versions to offer.

After dinner and dish duty, we head to our cottage. Cyndie showered while I logged on to the internet and sent a couple of emails, made my weekly NFL football picks, and posted some images and descriptions to Ian’s LifeStory on our Brainstorms  virtual community. We don’t end up getting to sleep until almost midnight. We are having so much fun, we’d probably skip sleeping, except all the activity is enough to guarantee our bodies will claim a full night’s rest.

It is day 4 of our visit to Ian and Victoria’s farm in Portugal (Tuesday, September 21) and we are growing comfortable with the routine. Still, it all seems to move faster than I can absorb. I am in a mode of marveling over one aspect of this place and experience, while new revelations of place and experiences continue to appear. Activities follow, one after another, and it is easy to find myself a bit unprepared for a task. More than once I have found myself in the middle of a project when I would suddenly realize I had forgotten to tie up the laces of my boots as I had decided I should do the last time I was negotiating the steep incline or thick bramble.

However, I am feeling much satisfaction with being able to contribute labor and companionship to Ian while he tackles tasks, which seem to be perpetually available, one after another.

Today dawns with a gray sky that appears as though clouds reach to the ground, yet it is not actually wet. The overcast doesn’t last, and by mid-morning the sun breaks through it and shines the rest of the day. Cyndie has a goal to bake banana bread and is up and going early. At the house, Ian isn’t out yet, so I sit on the porch to enjoy the view and Cyndie goes around to feed the horses. That brings Ian out. After breakfast, Ian wants to get the brush cutter into town and have Alfredo look at adjusting the idle, or figure out why it doesn’t respond better. I go with him on that errand and get to see the shop. He tells me that Alfredo seems a bit intimidated by my presence and doesn’t have as much to say as he usually does. Ian uses the reference of Bob Dylan to describe the place I come from. That tends to bring nods of recognition from all who hear it.

After that, the plan is to meet Carlos in Celorico and pick up his grandfather’s grape press on loan. Carlos isn’t immediately available, so Ian gives me a little tour of the improvements the local government has made to public space along a river. We also visit the library, started privately by a man who reviews and recommends first edition books, and then donates them. (See Ian’s added information in the comments section for this post.) It is a marvel to see such a resource available here in the most impoverished region of the country.

When we find Carlos, I learn we are to drive to where the press is stored, following him in his pickup, to his grandfather’s place. We load the press in the back of the pickup, and Ian suggests I ride with Carlos on the trip to the farm. It is a treat for me and a privilege, except we don’t have a word to say to each other. I am at a loss to communicate beyond my English language. At Ian’s place, we find Cyndie exercising Sebastian in the circle and I get a chance to introduce Carlos to her. She heads off to prepare a noontime meal and offers to serve Carlos, but he is unable to accept, upholding a commitment to meet his mother for lunch. It was at this time that Carlos suggests to Ian that we come to his house on Friday, thinking Cyndie could prepare a meal there, and he would buy the ingredients. We make it a date for 7:00.

When Ian and I finally returned to the farm after our visit with Carlos, we put our energies into chores, beginning with distribution of some of the accumulated manure. When Ian cleans out the stables, he puts the manure and wet sawdust into large plastic bags and ties them closed to avoid attracting flies. When enough bags have been filled to warrant the task, we toss them into the back of his Subaru and drive to the area next in line for fertilizing. This day, it was the vines up on the tier where the greenhouse is located. These bags take some effort to hoist, yet Ian is a model of efficiency and appears to expend little effort to artfully handle the task. On the other hand, I muddle my way through to untie it, find a grip, barely lift the weight, and then struggle to pour more of the contents to where the vines need it, and less on my feet.

I am spreading manure with my friend, Ian, and I am overflowing with glee at my good fortune.

Bags emptied, Ian drove us back down to pick up the tools for cutting undergrowth. I have one day’s experience under my belt at this point and now I am ready to improve my technique. My primary objective was mulching the ferns and other volunteer growth in an area of pine trees, while Ian would cut growth nearby that gets fed to the horses. This was the second time I had ever tried to operate a gas-powered brush cutter. The first time was the day before. I was intent on improving my skills. My goal was two-fold: I wanted to knock down a large enough area to appear productive, yet also do an adequate job of mulching that which I’ve felled.

One thing that I did do better than on day-1… I remembered to use my ear covers to protect my hearing. On my first try, I was so focused on the task that I worked for about 20 minutes before I realized I had forgotten to slip the ear covers I was wearing on my head, down over my ears. I took that as a sign the little machine wasn’t all that loud.

Having no reference for measuring the level of my progress, I settled on personal satisfaction over what I accomplished in the time that Ian finished cutting and hauling a carload down to the stables. I was also able to decide when to call it quits because my machine was not idling so well and if I didn’t keep the RPMs revved enough, it would stall. Even though I was pleased with the amount of area I had mulched, I quickly saw how much more remained to cut. This was an ongoing task that Ian manages year round. I have gained a whole new respect for both man and machine for this chore.

With the cutting sufficiently accomplished for the time being, the next task was to get the horses back to their stables from down in the bottom field. Ian managed to move both Lucy and Frida, and asked me to wait about 5 minutes and then open the gate to let Doll and Sebastian head up on their own. I did my best to imagine 5 minutes, then delicately maneuvered the gate to allow them out and not get myself trampled. Away they ran as darkness of evening settled upon us.

When we arrived back at the house, we found that Cyndie had dinner waiting. In her quest to make worthy use of the multitude of ripe figs available, she worked hard this day to undertake the task of drying them, using information we researched on the internet. In addition to that, she had made fig jam which was served with our meal. It was AWESOME! A very special finish to a very full and wonderful day.

There were many magical moments during our 2-week visit to the Rowcliffe farm in Portugal, but there is something about it that really stands out for us. Over the years of reading Ian’s descriptions of life on the farm, I learned about his friend, Carlos. Ian’s descriptions of the variety of ways Carlos has generously helped out, reveal a truly good-hearted fellow. Finally, I was about to discover, first hand,  just how true this is.

When I think back on this, I am reminded that I was still a bit disoriented by the travel. I was just two days into our visit when Ian drove me into Celorico to Carlos’ service station. I must admit, I no longer recall that initial introduction. So many interactions have occurred since that moment, it has become overshadowed. What has stayed with me is the 4o-year-old Toyota Land Cruiser with a single bench seat and suddenly finding that I had agreed to climb in, sitting between Carlos and Ian, and was headed to ‘I wasn’t sure where’, and I didn’t understand a word of Portuguese. Ian told me that Carlos wanted to show me his farm.

The view down to Carlos' house

It wasn’t that I felt any doubts about my safety in this situation, but I was suddenly feeling another exponential level farther from home. Luckily, that is one of the precious good feelings of such an adventure. This was really a special thrill. Carlos was driving us through the back roads of an area where the main roads seem like they could be back roads. We were 4-wheeling into some very rural country, cutting through an area the local government was using as a dump for construction debris, to emerge at a spectacular overlook. Below us was the house Carlos had built on his grandfather’s old property, and a dramatic view of the primary landmark of the region, Mt Graça.

This was a rush of beauty and experience that really ‘wowed’ me. As I marveled over what I was seeing, the thought that Cyndie wasn’t seeing it with me had me wondering how I was going to describe what she had missed here.

Standing next to Carlos, I felt his connection to this place, and I sensed his pride in being able to share it with me. An immense feeling of privilege came over me, for the opportunity to be in that moment with these two people. Carlos indicated we would drive down to the house. The translation Ian offered indicated that Carlos would drive carefully. I wondered why he needed to say that.

When they use 4-wheel drive vehicles here, they really USE them. That drive down to the house was right out of the extremes they film for the commercials to sell off-road vehicles. I was on a thrill ride in a place of overwhelming beauty. Carlos went on to guide me in a tour of his magnificent house and then a walk around his farm.

I kept wondering how I could include Cyndie in seeing all this and spending this kind of time with Carlos. He came up with a solution for that when he asked Ian if we could come to his house for dinner on Friday. Over dinner, Carlos asked Ian if we were going to see other landmarks  in the area and indicated he would like to join us. Not only did Carlos join us, he drove, and guided us to a variety of locations and sights which fully submerged us in the local essence of this region of Portugal. As much as we were enjoying the experience  that Carlos was providing to us, even more, we were falling in love with Carlos, the person. It was also pretty special to witness the friendship that Ian and Carlos share.

We will never forget the places we have been, but we hold most dear, the people we met while visiting. Carlos is one gem of a person whom we feel most blessed to have come to know. His good-hearted contributions of time and energy provided us indescribable wealth of experience.

Obrigadinho, Carlos!

I have put together a collection of images that Cyndie and I took while in Portugal and uploaded them for sharing. You will recognize some of them from previous posts, and I will continue to select a few to compliment the stories about our adventure that I have yet to publish. Even though I haven’t finished writing comments for all of the images that deserve explanation, you are welcome to see the mostly chronological depiction of the variety of activities we undertook while in Portugal. Maybe it will peak your curiosity and fuel anticipation for chapters soon to be published. One thing that occurs to me, every time I look through the collection of images, is that as wonderful as it is to see it all again, the pictures don’t do justice for the beauty and depth of experience we actually enjoyed. If you think some of the images look nice, just keep in mind that it was truly much nicer than what you are thinking it must have been. Spend some time touring our slideshow at my picasaweb photo album of our Portugal adventure. I hope you enjoy it!

It was now Monday and Ian’s wife and daughters had stretched out their weekend as long as possible, staying the extra night, even though they all needed to get back to Porto. It created a special atmosphere to have them prolong their stay for our benefit. Our morning activities hovered a bit as they prepared to leave us for the week. I brought my guitar with me to the main house and played on the porch swing as Cyndie was making a peach crumble in the kitchen.

When an opportunity presented itself, Cyndie and I asked Stephanie if she thought her mother would mind if we washed the windshield of her car for her before they left. We had noticed how the film that builds up on the inside over time was obscuring the view when the car was facing into the sun. I was a little concerned that the gesture, or our intent, could be misinterpreted, but Victoria only objected briefly when she saw us expanding the task and moving to the side windows, as well.  I tried to disrupt her thinking by using a little humor. I informed her that our cleaning her windshield was in no way intended to enable her to drive faster.

We said our good-byes and sent them on their way. It would be our last opportunity to be with Patricia on this trip, as she was planning to leave for India the following weekend.

After they were gone, there was a brief pause where we caught our breath and considered our next agenda. There would be a different rhythm to things for a few days now, as it would be just the three of us: Ian, Cyndie and me. Cyndie volunteered to make meals. Ian told her that he could never ask her to do that, and we understood completely. It is a contribution that she does well, and seemed like a pretty good way to go, but I’m a very biased judge. Ian and I benefited greatly from her generous willingness to claim that task. We decided to go grocery shopping and to fill LP gas tanks. On the way to the supermarket, we stopped off at a garden in town to see some beautiful plants, and trees, and an overall great public space. Ian drove to Mondim to offer us what he thought was a better supermarket. Cyndie shopped from her list and bought mainly vegetables, some things to bake bread, some pasta, rice, and then meat to make a pot roast. As she was going through the process of paying, the credit card machine went blank after she entered her PIN and it took a bit of time for the clerk and others to fix things. The clerk was very concerned to not charge us twice. She was very, very nice about it, and Cyndie wanted to have Ian translate our sincere thanks. The clerk was working equally to thank us for being patient. A wonderful exchange of pleasantness.

While swapping LP gas tanks, Ian considered checking in with Carlos, but decided to come back later when Cyndie hesitated over the idea. Back at the farm, Cyndie heated up left-overs for our lunch, and after eating, we walked the horses down to the lower field by the river. Seeing so many ripe figs on the tree behind the shade house, we got the idea to pick them for drying in the sun. Cyndie took up that project while Ian drove me to meet Carlos. That part of my day is a story for another time…

Over the last few days, I have been looking at a lot of pictures from our time on Ian’s farm. I was moved by the number of times I found Tiddles, the cat, making an appearance in the images. More often than not, he was entirely unnoticed at the time the picture was taken. I only knew him during the last week he was with us in the world, but in that time, he made a huge impression on me. He was a significant presence on the farm, daily increasing his reach, sometimes in undesirable ways. He was just beginning to discover there might be delectable morsels available up on the kitchen table. Mostly, he was perfecting his stalking skills, targeting flies while training for bigger prey, the mice it was hoped he would dispatch from the premises. All the while, he was battling a respiratory illness that seemed to alternate between better and worse, from day to day. We were serving him doses of medicine intended to treat the problem, but with absolutely no warning, and to everyone’s utter surprise, he laid down and stopped breathing on a beautiful Sunday morning. His passing brought on much sadness, but his magical spirit will be preserved in the many fond memories held by those of us who were blessed to have received some of his special attention.