Relative Something

Thursday, September 30, continued…

Ian checks in to say he is going to run an errand to see Alfredo. He needs a new blade for the cutter, a new blade for the chainsaw, and wants to have the cutter looked at once more. I take a little walk of my own and explore the property for a few vantage points that are different from the ones to which I’ve become familiar. I find Cyndie coming down the path from up above. We head to the kitchen where I have breakfast while she starts baking bread. I download the pictures she took on her walk this morning, then get my guitar and sit on the porch swing to pluck away. Ian returns, and since I am enjoying my leisure, he offers to get more sawdust for the stables by himself. He arrives from that task to find us in the stables where Cyndie is cleaning and giving the horses attention. I help haul the bags of new sawdust and then we all participate in cleaning up. When that chore is done, Cyndie returns to the kitchen to prepare lunch and Ian and I go up to the greenhouse to bring out a wheelbarrow of camellias that need to be replanted. While in the greenhouse, we end up cutting fresh grass that has naturally flourished in the environment, even though uninvited. The horses will be happy to have it.

Cyndie serves us a lunch of beef stroganoff over wide noodles. Afterward, she wants to see if she can ride Doll. Ian assists her and they end up spending most of the afternoon with each of the 4 horses, one at a time, exercising them and training them with a saddle. I do some more grass cutting in the greenhouse and then put a timid effort into weeding a small portion of the cabbage patch. As the sun is getting low, Ian and I set off to cut some undergrowth for the horses. The area we settle on is mixed with ferns and a plant with sharp thorns that the horses won’t eat, so it is a challenge for me to collect just the desirable cuttings. When the car is full, we take a little walk down to the spring to check on our plantings. Everything looks to be holding up well. I discover that Cyndie had arranged some rocks and a hunk of wood around the base of the fig tree we planted in her honor. It’s fun to find evidence of her having visited during one of her walkabouts.

When we return to the main house, we find Cyndie has already washed all the dishes and the kitchen floor, in addition to having finished transplanting the last batch of camellias we brought out, which by our calculation makes it about 99 plants she achieved in the last two days. Also, the floor of the stable area looks as clean as it can possibly be. Her accomplishments are a wonder to behold.

We all participate in the final clean out of the day for each stable and get the horses fed for the night as darkness settles upon us. Then Cyndie showers and heads to prepare dinner while I shower and follow. It is our last dinner on the farm and we reminisce a bit with Ian about our arrival and some of the events that have followed. Cyndie suggests the occasion deserves a toast with the port wine that Carlos gave us the night we had dinner at his house. She also presents to Ian, the gift of the scarf she has been knitting for him during our visit.

It is the end of our last night at Ian and Victoria’s forest garden estate.

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.

In support of yesterday’s post of Waterfalls and Mountains, images not previously published…

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Wednesday, September 29, continued…

We meet up with Carlos in Celorico and he drives us on a tour of picturesque back-road sights leading to a nature preserve, (Parque Natural da Serra do Alvão), where we see the monumentally dramatic water fall, Fisgas de Ermelo, that appears to spring forth from the middle of a wall of granite. The sights are world-class for both their beauty and history. We pass through quaint little villages, some with houses made entirely of precisely stacked rocks, with no mortar, and covered by slate roofs. The buildings are situated right at the edge of the narrow cobblestone roads and local men and women are seen going about their tasks, appearing as though they have little use for technological trappings that have appeared in the last century. They barely offer us a glance as we roll by in Carlos’ Volvo wagon, horn beeping to warn of our approach.

The weather for this adventure is perfectly sunny and not too hot. We enjoy cool breezes of the high country. After we play among the rocks and cliffs of the waterfall viewing area, and I balance a couple of rocks, we hop back in the car and drive to the ascent of Mt Graça, (Monte Farinha – Alto da Senhora da Graça). Carlos drives much of the time without his seat belt and lets the ding, ding, ding of the car’s alert, chime on and on. After 10 minutes or so, he might put the belt on, or he might not. He politely asks us if he can smoke, after he has opened his window. He tells us to stop him at any time for photos, and he does so on his own, several times. I hold up my camera for one shot, and he stops the car for me. He is an exceptionally kind and generous friend. He is very proud to show us around. Ian says Carlos cleaned up his car for us, and this Volvo is not the car he would normally take out, because of rough roads. At one point, he pulled off for a shortcut to see the waterfall, but then turns around when he senses the unpaved road would be unwise for a car with such little clearance.

We share wonderful banter, with Ian translating much of it, but occasionally Cyndie’s Spanish allows her to understand more than I can, and they chuckle at something Carlos has said. I am left to wonder about the subtleties my mono-lingual limitation causes me to miss. On the ascent of Mt Graça, Ian discovers that they have added guard rails, which unfortunately block some of the view during the climb. Driving away from the waterfall, we had spotted thick smoke of a forest fire, and now as we climb the mountain, there are some clouds filling the sky and the air underneath them has grown very hazy, somewhat limiting our view. The road is painted with messages to cycling heroes. The Tour of Portugal cycle race (Volta a Portugal), a professional stage race held annually in August, includes a deciding stage with a climb up this mountain. At the top, the breeze blows just a bit cooler. It takes a moment to orient ourselves, and Ian and Carlos work to find the view of Carlos’s house. Eventually, it is located, but the haze makes it just barely identifiable.

Carlos invites us into the cafe at the top to have coffee (or coca cola in my case). He tells us his sister got married at the church here on the peak. When we step in to the restaurant, there are no other customers. The little tiny cups of coffee are served in a blink and my tall glass and can of coke seem massive in comparison. Then Carlos steps out for a cigarette and visits with the man working the restaurant.

The drive down has a distinctively different feel, after the accomplishment of having been to the top. Missing, is the anticipation of waiting and wondering on the way up. The trip down also includes seeing quite a few cyclists lumbering in extreme effort against the incline. I don’t know why we didn’t pass any on the way up, but now, we see plenty on our way down.

On the return drive to Celorico, we come upon road construction of repaving which has traffic down to a single lane. We are stopped, waiting long enough for our turn to pass, that Carlos shuts off the engine. Occasionally, Carlos will make a turn off the road and Ian will say there is something Carlos wants to show us. Once, his plan is foiled by grape picking activity that is blocking the route. He turns the car around. Another time, it is to show us a beautiful little club that has skeet shooting. It offers another great vista of Mt. Graça and almost a view of Carlos’ house.

When we get back to Carlos’ petrol station in Celorico, he invites us in to see his car collection and motorcycles. Behind a locked sliding door, there is a treasure trove of old, old motorcycles: Triumph, Norton, Ariel, a mini cooper, an old Jaguar covered in dust. Amazing stuff packed in so tight it is difficult to walk around. He seems to appreciate our wonder over it all.

With little fanfare, he shrugs off our gratitude for his extreme generosity. It is something he is happy to do, and he seems to indicate that it is just normal and expected that he would do so. Ian, Cyndie and I,  head back to the farm feeling spent by the adventures. We arrive to chores of preparing the stables and bringing up the horses, and then Cyndie also wants to finish transferring the last of the camellias she had moved out of the greenhouse. Suddenly, there is an explosion of fireworks that seem incredibly close and help convince us that the singing we have been hearing must be some sort of celebration. We had passed a religious procession earlier that Carlos suggested might be a funeral. Now Ian is wondering if it might be a Saint’s day or something related. Whatever it is, it adds a sense of mystique to our already incredible day.

Ian and I stand by and assist Cyndie’s transplanting as the evening grows dark; so dark that Ian needs to turn on the back light before she gets to the last one. With that last task accomplished, we top off the day with our own little celebration of popcorn that Cyndie prepares, and a slide show of the pictures we captured during the day. The slide show finishes too soon and Cyndie asks to see pictures from the first day of our arrival, so we watch scenes we’ve seen before, but from what seems like a long time ago. When the slide show is interrupted by a phone call to Ian, from Victoria, we decide it’s a good place to break, which allows us to call it a night at a relatively decent hour.

It was a huge day in terms of being tourists, and it feels good to be back on the farm. However, we are beginning to sense that our days here are numbered.

Portugal, Wednesday, September 29…

With a plan to go sight-seeing with Carlos this afternoon, we jump into a chore early. The temperature has been dropping enough overnight to have Ian thinking about collecting firewood, so we drive up the hill to cut some eucalyptus. He works the chainsaw as I carry the cut sections and load them into the Forester. It is not an easy task on the steep incline. The pitch is made even more treacherous by the fresh leaves of the branches we are trimming, which are very slippery. While I am hauling, I need to keep one eye on my footing and one eye overhead for the timber Ian is methodically bringing down.

Earlier, before we started our project, Ian showed Cyndie where there are camellias in the greenhouse that need to be divided into individual pots. While we were getting firewood, she groomed the horses, finished her basket by adding a handle, and worked on potting camellias.

We pushed ourselves to our time limit, and then hustled to get cleaned up for lunch in Celorico at the cafe where Ian usually gets his midday meal. It was a nice treat to share that experience. Ian was able to point out other diners he had come to know and describe the work they did. The cafe is popular with laborers employed nearby, for its hearty meals. We start with the classic soup of Portugal, Caldo Verde. Bread is already on the table. Then 2 choices of entrée, pork and potatoes or red bean goulash. Ian and I order the pork, Cyndie, the bean dish. The salad is served family style, lettuce, onions and tomato with an oil/vinegar dressing. The serving sizes are very generous and the atmosphere delightful. It is a very enjoyable experience for us.

We head back to the farm and try to hustle the horses down to the bottom field. Apparently, rushing doesn’t work so well with horses. Ian heads out with Lucy without waiting for Frida, and Cyndie has trouble controlling Frida’s zeal to catch up with her momma. Frida breaks loose of Cyndie’s grip and rushes off to chase down Lucy, wanting to suckle. It appears the weaning wasn’t quite complete. There will be more time required for that, it seems.

Once all the horses are down, we head back to Celorico to meet Carlos…

On Wednesday, we got off the farm in the afternoon and played tourist again. I’ll tell you about it next time I claim some time to write. I seem to have fallen behind a bit here, so I’ll fill in with this photo of us in front of a vista of groves and forests, some burned, on the small mountains of northern Portugal. The writing I did in my journal while on the trip contains a lot of shorthand and doesn’t read so well. I’m finding I spend a bit more time than I anticipated would be necessary to clean them up and make them ready for posting. There are just a few days of our trip left to describe. I hope to get back to the rest of our story real soon.

Portugal, Tuesday, September 28

In the morning, Cyndie did some knitting as I wrote my journal. It is just a brief moment of the day when we are idle. As the sun is appearing over the ridge, Cyndie gets dressed and heads out to tend to the horses. She says she will wait for me for breakfast. By the time I make it around, she is only part way through the process of cleaning the stables. She takes pause from the task to join me just as Ian is coming out, so he picks up where she leaves off. After our breakfast, we decide to go shopping. Ian chooses a different route to Celorico, and I am able to spot Machado out with his horse again, so we stop to visit, allowing Cyndie the chance to meet him. Once again, he has constrained his horse for training, and despite being a beautiful animal with interesting markings and a strong healthy looking body, her eyes convey a sadness that reflects the way she is handled.

The supermarket Ian brings us to is smaller than the one we visited last week. We find everything we want except the meat Cyndie was looking for and some aspirin for her troublesome hip. Next stop is a Chemist (Pharmacist) but Cyndie comes right back out, saying there were 10 people in line. Then we drive to a butcher shop for meat. There isn’t any product in the display counter, so there will be no ‘sight buying’. We are told the mincer isn’t functional, but Ian is able to explain what we want and the woman opens the cooler door, steps in where the meat is hanging, and cuts off a piece. She graciously cuts the selection up into cubes for us.

After that, Ian drives us to a second Chemist and Cyndie is successful finding aspirin, using her Spanish to communicate. Then we stop by Carlos’ to check about plans to go up Mt Graça on Wednesday. Ian runs in while we wait in the car, but then Carlos comes out to say hello. Cyndie and I want to buy Ian new zinc scoops for use pouring measured servings of grain for the horses, to replace the brittle plastic scoops that appear to have a shorter life-span. We first saw one at Carlos’ that he uses for his horses. Since we were already in town, it seemed like the time to take action on the plan. We describe our idea to Ian and he says he will need to run back in and ask Carlos what the scoops are called in Portuguese. It serves to remind me that, for the most part, he navigates life here using a second language. We walk to the hardware store and Ian speaks to the clerk, only to receive a stare and then the reply that they don’t have what he is asking for. After some additional communication, it is discovered that, even among the local people, there are different words used to describe things. It turns out, they have just what we want and we finally complete our shopping expedition, fully satisfied.

Back at the farm, we put away groceries and then Cyndie starts work on lunch as Ian and I make a trip down to the spring to prune the old olive tree and water the new plants. Cyndie prepares a spectacular lunch of parmesan chicken on noodles with a fantastic tomato sauce that she created from scratch with no instructions. She also baked chocolate chip cookies which were something Ian recognized, but couldn’t remember a name for them.

After lunch, we give the horses baths by tethering them in the grooming area, one at a time, and washing them with soap and water. They all seem to appreciate the process. After being wet, they are walked for a while to allow them to dry before putting them back in their stable. That process takes most of the afternoon and as light was getting short, we bring Cassius for a walk to show Cyndie the spring garden we had planted.

Cyndie makes soup for dinner and then I presented a slide show at Cyndie’s request and we finish the night watching all the pictures she had taken thus far.

Monday, September 27,  continued…

Ian and I had decided to take some trees down to the spring and get them planted, while Cyndie was creating lunch. We selected a batch of camellias for a hedge and a Rowan, or Mountain Ash, to get started.  The planting was very inspiring and both Ian and I wanted to do more. I saw a spot that deserved the weeping willow tree that was growing too big on the edge of his shade house. It was competing for space just outside Frida’s and Doll’s stables. It made sense to me to get the tree out of the way there and now we had a wonderful new destination for it.

That seemed to inspire Ian, and we added a small fig tree that was rooting right next to the willow anyway, and then a magnolia tree and two little silk trees. The biggest chore was actually breaking the willow roots free from the tangle they had grown to, in the shade house. They had grown down through the black fabric of the floor and out and around a long way toward the horse stables. It was a big deal to get all the roots extracted and I felt extra pleasure to be accomplishing this phase of the project. It was a double reward to have the space opened up, and to have a new precious home for the tree.

We put the trees, tools and bags of manure in the back of the Subaru, the bulk of the willow hanging out the back, and off we went again, armed for a good bit of planting. It was wonderful to collaborate with Ian and witness his creative eye and intelligent sense of plants. We would dig in a spot we wanted to plant, in hopes of finding good, moist soil, then pour in water and manure and set the plant. A little dirt backfill, a topping of manure and one more bucket of water finishes the planting. I began placing stones that had tumbled down from the old wall of the path nearby and we had a very nice little garden created around the spring. It unfolded really nicely and we were able to get a significant start on a pretty special space that afternoon. It was a real highlight for me.

When we returned, we found Cyndie in the driveway with a table set up and quite an impressive project of basket-making in progress. I was very, very impressed with her ingenuity. I have witnessed her thrive here and it is thrilling to see her creative energy and interaction with horses in full bloom.

The next task that needed to happen was getting fresh cuttings for the horses to eat, before we bring them back up from the lower field. Ian used the power tool to cut, and I raked and packed bales into the Forester. Up on the hill where he was cutting, Ian realized he hadn’t showed me the mine shafts that had been dug, in search of water many years ago. He said it is the way they used to do it. There are apparently 3 in the area, and none of them found water. I was duly impressed. It seems rather high up to be searching for water, but it must have proved successful somewhere in the past for them to work that hard in such a search.

Once finished cutting, we stocked the stables with food and it was time to bring up horses. I volunteered to watch the things on the stove for Cyndie while she went down with Ian to get the horses. They surprised me by bringing up Doll and Sebastian first. Those were the two horses ready to go, so Ian decided to grant them the honor this time.

Cyndie said that while she was cooking dinner, Cassius suddenly attacked Shelly violently and she had to use a chair to separate them and then banished Cassius to outside. They were okay while I was on watch of the soup on the stove. Apparently, Cyndie was pouring salt in the soup when the fracas erupted and so dinner became a high sodium event. Wow, was that soup salty! Too bad, because otherwise it would have been great chicken soup. Her fresh-baked bread was an additional treat.

I was covered from head to toe in dirt and dust, so Cyndie let me head down to shower while she finished the dishes. It was a very rewarding day. Cyndie had forgotten to bring the adapter cable for her camera, but I was able to transfer her memory card to my camera in order to download her pictures, so we watched a long slide show review before we turned in for the night.

Portugal on Monday, September 27…

Once again, we woke at the usual time, just before the sun pops over the ridge that fills our view outside the window at the end of our bed.  Also, once again, I used the morning hour to write in my journal about our trip. While I was writing, Cyndie ventured out for a walk on her own. She climbed to the high point and took some pictures, then collected eucalyptus bark with a plan to make some kind of basket.

By the time I popped out of the cottage door, I found Luis was already here working on tasks associated with the wine process. He also needed to reclaim the grape squishing machine for the harvest of his grandmother’s grapes. Ian helped him load it into the Subaru and was going to drive him to deliver it. It occurred to Ian that we wouldn’t see Luis again before our departure at the end of the week, so he kindly alerted us, providing opportunity to say our goodbyes. I had brought a pocket multi-tool on the trip, one I also carried on my trek in the Himalayas. Something moved me to want to give it to Luis, as a remembrance of our visit. It seemed to me that he could put it to better use than I. Ian took a picture of Cyndie and me, arm and arm with Luis. Later, Ian pointed out that Luis had shown up this morning wearing pants with pockets on the side, similar to mine. He thinks it was in emulation of me. I guess I can live with that, but if he starts to grow his hair long, I’m going to get worried.

Stephanie and Victoria packed up and departed for their responsibilities in Porto, leaving the 3 of us to settle into our now familiar routine. Ian decided to water “the park” and I accompanied him on the task. Cyndie started to make bread, then set it out to rise and went to the stables in hopes of grooming horses, and possibly to ride. The horses didn’t seem interested, so she changed her plan and sat down there to weave eucalyptus.

Ian and I returned from watering and found Cyndie’s bread rising in the sun, while she was over in the shadow of the shade-house, weaving, as the center of attention for the horses. It created a magnificent vision, like so many others we enjoyed throughout our visit. It is hard to express how often the experiences in which we became engaged, proved to be the very picture of our dreams for this trip, and more.

One in particular involves a certain spring garden. Planting near the spring that Ian and I uncovered the week before was just what we had in mind for our next task…