Relative Something

Portugal, Thursday, September 30…

I am wondering if, after we leave here, I will remember all the sounds… like the roosters crowing from the farms across the valley… the vehicles traveling the road traversing our view of the ridge that forms much of our horizon… the constant hum of the river flowing in the bottom of the valley beneath us. There is activity all around us, yet, at the same time, we are secluded on this expanse of property that changes from one world to another as you walk just a few minutes time. Some of the houses across the valley appear to be just a stone’s throw away. There is a sort of intimacy with the surrounding settlements, yet an equal amount of autonomy from them. You can hear the voices of people talking, but cannot make out the words they are saying. You hear dogs barking most of the time, and occasionally, the sounds of saws cutting or other mechanical agricultural activity. Here, our cutting of undergrowth, or the sounds of Cassius protecting his turf, contribute equally to the soundtrack.

There are a fair number of flies to contend with, but eventually, one just gets used to them. In contrast to homes where I come from, there is no need for the level of insulation or the strict seal to keep out mosquitoes, so doors and windows can be left open with no screen and no seal beneath the door. Spiders, crickets, flies, and occasionally a little salamander type critter, come and go as they please. Luckily, so far, no snakes inside. Even though we have seen some monstrous snake skins that have been shed, we have not seen any actual snakes. I am more than satisfied with that. There is one thing I haven’t seen yet that I would very much like: a squirrel. Ian describes them as being small, almost kitten-like.

For the first time since we have been here, today feels like a cloudy day, even though there were other days when the mist came close to rain. Yet, there are also still streaks of blue sky visible, like it can’t commit to producing enough clouds to fill this sky. For as dry as it has been, there are an amazing number of green plants thriving. It is remarkable.

The smell of the pressed grapes continues to linger in the air around the winery attached to the end of the writer’s cottage. The horses are quiet now, but the clomping and stomping remind us of their presence, in addition to an occasional whinny of communication toward us or the other horses.

While I’ve been writing this morning, Cyndie has wandered off on a walk to take pictures and sketch a map of the collection of places here. There is the high vista at the top of the hill, where you can see much more of the surrounding terrain and some scars of recent fires that have burned. Down one side of the slope is a field of tall grasses that cover the hill where Ian has previously cut back the growth. Further down, an uncut area of oak trees, leading to the newly cleared spring and our recently planted garden. At the bottom, there is the field along the river with the rows of poplar trees Ian has planted, and that the horses have been pushing over. Above that, the camellia gardens and then on the next tier up, grape vines. Around to the east, along a now dry waterway from long ago, are tiers needing to be cut of years of overgrowth, and then a level with orange trees and lines of camellias along the edge. That leads up through the “park” with the double stairway and the gazebo with the stone table and chairs. Just below the patio of the winery are the highly productive grape vines and over along the level below the main entrance driveway, there are cabbages planted. Continuing east, there is a flat area that is the circle and dressage area for the horses, among more rows of grape vines.  Above the driveway, there are more tiers of vines that step up to the greenhouse, and nearby, the pool. Up from there, is a transition to the wooded hill where Ian has been cutting undergrowth for the horses, mulching the ferns beneath the pines, and cutting eucalyptus for firewood to burn in the coming winter. On this hill is the open mine shaft, one of three in the area where the search for water was unrewarded.

All of this surrounds the main house and stables, which embrace the shade house of growing plants. Beside that, at an angle, the winery and tool room, attached to the newly re-roofed, and beautifully decorated writer’s cottage.

In the amount of time it takes to write that, the sun emerges as the clouds thin to reveal a day remarkably similar to the 12 that have come before. It appears we may not be given the opportunity to experience a truly rainy day during our visit here, yet it is no less a paradise as a result.