Relative Something

Last full day in Portugal, Friday, October 1…

On the morning of our last day on the farm, we wake to a beautiful sight of glowing rosy-pink, peach-orange clouds above the ridge, just prior to the rising sun. The calm brilliance of the view contrasts with a pressing feeling of needing to prepare for our departure, even though we have much of the day available before setting off for Porto. I strip the bed as soon as I’m out of it and Cyndie puts in the first of several loads of laundry.

We step out into the day and Cyndie feeds the horses grain, before we head up for breakfast. Ian is on his way to clean the stables, so Cyndie joins him for that task. I grab a piece of cheese out of their refrigerator and go back to the writer’s cottage to get some of the bread that Cyndie wanted to throw away the night before. I had talked her out of it, because I liked the heavy bread with the crunchy crust. She wasn’t going to keep it because the loaves didn’t rise.

While Ian is working on horse-related chores, he mentions I should pick out a sequoia tree to plant down at the spring. Back in the corner of the shade house, where I find a tree that appeals to me, I spot the wheel barrow that has a flat tire. I decide to see if I can get the tire off, to check for the source of the problem. First, I need to check the tool room for suitable implements of destruction. Upon successful removal of the wheel, I inspect the tire for any ‘sharps’ that might be caught in the rubber. Finding none, I turn my attention to the inner tube. It still has some air in it, but not enough to satisfy me for testing. After an unsuccessful self-guided search for a pump, I interrupt Ian’s work to ask for his help. After taking his own unrewarded look in the tool room for a manual pump, Ian goes to the car to fetch the 12V compressor. I put in enough air to feel satisfied it is under sufficient pressure, then fill a tub with water for my test. I try, and try, to find any hint of air bubbling from the tube or the valve, but cannot detect any evidence of a leak. I decide to put it back together, without having found, or fixed, a cause for it to lose air.

By the time I am finished with that project, Ian has the car loaded with the sequoia, a watering can, the enxada (hoe/shovel), and a bag of manure. The three of us climb in the car and he drives us down to the new spring. We debate the location for a little while and then settle on the highest spot, just underneath the stump of a long-gone oak tree. Ian reminds me to take pictures throughout the process and when it comes time to set the tree in the hole, he suggests Cyndie take a picture of us. She has a better idea. I set up the camera to use the auto-timer and all three of us pose in the act of planting.

We linger for some time at the spring and Cyndie waters all the new trees we have planted in the past week. I add some water to the old olive tree. Before we leave, I dig out more of the muck that has settled in the pool of the spring and get my gloves absolutely soaked. There are some significant root structures below the surface of the shallow pool, so Ian gets a cutting tool for me to prune them out of the way. When I step back to look, I see that he has hung the watering can on a branch of the willow tree to have it available for future visits to the spring.

This spring garden space will definitely be one of the highlights of our stay.

I can say, emphatically, from the fresh perspective of a month and a half later, “It certainly is!”