Relative Something

Sunday, September 26, continued…

Poor Stephanie was full of grief over the death of Tiddles, and the dark cloud of loss blanketed the hearts of all of us as we went through the motions of having lunch. Discussion of trivial things seemed callous and hollow. Victoria had prepared a signature dish of seafood and rice for us that was unfairly overshadowed by events. We soldiered on and set our sights toward the plan for the afternoon.

The Rowcliffes were going to drive us to see the birthplace of Portugal and the historic castle there. That meant the horses needed to be moved down to the bottom field before we left. It took some doing to get Frida’s lead rope hooked, but once that was done, Ian and Cyndie walked the horses down. Then Cyndie quickly changed attire and we packed into Victoria’s car for the drive. It was about an hour’s drive away to Guimarães. We took a self-guided tour of the incredible historic castle there, walked down to see the chapel, and then over to the statue of Afonso Henriques, the first king of Portugal.

It was an interesting contrast to find ourselves transported from the blissful serenity of the farm, into the public locale busy with tourist traffic. We walked down some of the quaint cobblestone-paved narrow streets that have buildings right to the edge, and strolled out to a public square that has cafe seating and a street musician entertaining. We found a table and paused for food and drink at tea time.

During a pleasant exchange of conversation in which Cyndie is offering reasons Stephanie should consider visiting us to check out Minneapolis film schools,  I make a major faux pax blunder by referring to our empty house (thinking about our kids having moved out), mentioning I finally “got rid of our cat.”!! I catch myself, but too late, and apologize right away for such an insensitive comment. A bit of my remorse is tempered by Ian and Victoria’s immediate response, revealing their understanding and good humor, as Ian immediately remarks, “Fawlty Towers,” and Victoria says, “Adolph Hitler.” (A reference to “The Germans,” one of the most popular episodes of the BBC sitcom.)

We arrived back at the farm just before sunset. Immediately, Cyndie changed shoes so that she could assist Ian with bringing the horses up. Doll and Sebastian were mischievous and didn’t allow Cyndie to get Lucy’s harness on, even though Lucy seemed interested and willing. They chased her away. We needed to wait for Ian to arrive, and then even he had difficulty directing Doll and Sebastian to back off and let Lucy and Frida go first. Eventually, we succeed with our plan and once the horses are up, Cyndie and I excuse ourselves to the cottage and give the Rowcliffes some evening time of their own.

I try to do some internet posting, but the connection is slow this night, so I give up and go to sleep at a decent hour.

Sunday, September 26…

We didn’t really sleep-in all that much this morning, but we lounged for a bit and I took extra time to write and banter with Cyndie. When we headed out of the cottage around 9:00 a.m., we wandered over to the horses and spent time there, feeding them and mucking out their stables. Ian wandered down and joined us in the task. I noticed that some critter had been pulling food scraps out of a gap in the compost bin and pointed it out to Ian. He said the bin had completely blown apart from a wind gust and he had never quite gotten it put back together all the way because he was considering moving it. Then the girls started refilling it with compost, so now it was existing in a partial state of assembly and being used regardless. I did some digging and was able to push the sides back together again, so hopefully the scrounging animals won’t continue to make a mess of things.

We went up to the house for a little bite of breakfast and Ian sat with us to visit. We suggested that we wanted to take a walk, as Cyndie hadn’t yet seen all the far reaches of the property that I have been enjoying while working with Ian. After checking with Victoria, he said it would be best if he did an errand with her and we go explore on our own. It was a beautiful day and we took a long, slow tour, taking a lot of pictures with both our cameras. At the high point of the property, we could see over to the spot that had been burning the day before. It was still smoldering, and we lingered for quite a while, to be sure it wasn’t an uncontrolled fire re-igniting.

We walked down to the spring Ian and I had uncovered, and then around to the old cork tree, and the moss-covered stones. From there, it was a short distance up to a display of rocks I had stacked, then back down to the camellia gardens, following them around, backwards from the order Ian and I had watered them a couple of days before. That led over to the orange trees and then we climbed the double-sided stairs to the ‘gazebo’ with the marble table and pedestal seats, where I sat to pose for a picture. I sensed it may be getting long for us to be off on our own and that they may be wondering about us, so when we neared our cottage again and I heard voices, I assumed they were checking for us. I called out an “Ola!” and the reply I received from Stephanie was the most dramatic shock imaginable… “The cat is dead.”

What a blow that was. Just a short time before, on our walk, Cyndie had said it was the most precious moment she was feeling so far, to be getting the full impact of the beauty and wonder of this place all at once. To go from that feeling and then be thrust into the tragedy of the unexpected death was really something dreadful. Victoria was trying to talk through the mystery of possible explanations and Stephanie was full of despair. When Cyndie approached, in her own disbelief, to confirm what she was hearing, Steph handed her the dead cat.

Meanwhile, Ian was driving their car around the property, searching for us, wanting to retrieve us for lunch. Victoria said he didn’t even know about the cat yet, as they had just discovered it themselves. I wanted to relieve him of his search, but I didn’t want to wander away to find him, as I would risk always being a step behind. Then I heard his car, down below us on the tier of camellias from which we just had climbed, and I flagged him to reveal our location. I had the unfortunate task of reporting the news and witnessing his reaction of shock. It really caught us all by surprise and seemed to have occurred unexpectedly quick. Without hesitating, Ian dug a hole where Cyndie had placed Tiddles the cat, and in an instant, the animal was laid to rest.

There is a dramatic void created by his passing.

Continuing with Saturday, September 25…

After a really pleasant lunch break, it is back to picking grapes. I settle into the role of carrying tubs of grapes back to the winery to dump through the squishing machine. Carrying these loads is a significant effort that has me expending as much energy as one of my morning soccer games. After Luis arrives, and Victoria and Stephanie join the effort, it becomes a challenge for me to keep up, collecting the contents of all the bins and walking the distance back and forth to the winery. The farther down the rows of vines they pick, the longer my trips become.

Over time, additional guests arrive, some of whom join in picking grapes. Cyndie runs out of strength for the task of picking and excuses herself to lie down and stretch. Shortly after that, Stephanie asks me to let Cyndie know that it is tea time. I notice that Francisca has changed from her work clothes into something nice, so I stop in and give Cyndie that update. She indicates she will rally and appear. I turn back to the miscellany of tasks with Ian as we move from picking the last grapes to assisting Luis with the next steps toward get them pressed.

After a bit, I step back in our cottage and find Cyndie ended up going to sleep. I let her sleep for a short bit, but then worry that she may sleep too long for a nap; plus, all the guests appear to have gathered for treats and our absence may seem conspicuous. I roust her and change out of my disaster of a tee shirt, even though the rest of me is still sticky-dirty. I don’t find Ian in with Luis anymore, so I head round to the main house and find him on the porch with all the fixings from tea time still on the table, but all the folks gone. He says they have gone down to see the horses. He and I snack a bit and he gives me a lesson on three modified ways to say thank you in Portuguese. Then Cyndie comes up, looking wonderful and ready for an event. She joins us for a brief bite and then she goes off to find the crowd while Ian and I get back to supporting Luis.

Later, Cyndie and Stephanie described quite a threatening situation down in the field of horses with the large group of adults and children. The horses became nervous and it wasn’t apparent that everyone was aware of the situation. Cyndie and Stephanie worked together to avert a total disaster, and prevent injury to either horses or people. It made quite an impression on both of them.

Meanwhile, Ian and I are doing everything we can to keep things progressing as Luis applies his knowledge. Unfortunately, there is one mistake that requires going backwards in the process and consumes a fair amount of time. We struggle to assist Luis in the difficult task of removing the squished grapes from the press to re-orient the walls of the device. We had not fully centered the outer pieces before he started filling it. Suddenly I realize the guests are coming in to say good-bye, and I’ve hardly said hello to them.

In a blink, it seems, it is dark and evening is here. There seems no time to eat, and poor Luis hasn’t had a break all day. We are now committed to this project that must be completed all in one day. Stephanie stops in with treats for Luis to take home as a token of appreciation for his extra efforts. When we finally reach a point that can be called done for the day, it is almost 9:30 p.m.

Ian and I head up to the house where Cyndie, Victoria, and Stephanie have been waiting. Cyndie had baked banana bread and Stephanie served some dinner for us, and we sat for a few minutes in their kitchen together to eat. Ian looked pretty pooped. Even though the banana bread wasn’t ready to come out of the oven, Cyndie was trying to get us free to go to bed and give them their house back. She recruited Stephanie to watch the bread for ten more minutes and we said good night.

It was a very long day. I just wanted to get out of my trashed clothes and take a shower. I ended up spending a bit more time than I intended processing a few pictures and posting on Brainstorms before turning in for sleep around midnight. Long as it was, it was a one of a kind day that I will cherish forever.

Folks, I gotta tell ya, writing about our time in Portugal, a time that was a dream to experience in the first place… writing about it is not only a dream to be able to do now that we are home, it is causing me to have dreams that are rich in detail from Portugal. Just before I awoke this morning, while dreaming that I was toiling away on some task to help Ian in Portugal, I found myself questioning how I had gotten there, since it takes a day of travel. It is great that I have overcome that problem of travel by doing so in dream, but I regret that it doesn’t result in any tangible result for the Rowcliffes.

The night before last, I found myself dreaming that I was swimming in a deep pool of water with Ian’s horse, Sebastian. It was fabulous. So was our experience in Portugal.

Speaking of dreaming, trust me when I tell you that we have checked for ticket prices to fly there again.

Saturday, September 25…

Cyndie got up and dressed while I was writing, and she headed off to get started on freezing peaches she had picked. Her projects of trying to preserve the abundance of fruit here have met varying degrees of success and she wanted to bring the tasks to an end before the weekend activities started. I finally make an appearance for breakfast around 9:00 and find Cyndie in process. She reports that Ian is mucking out the stables and Stephanie is yet to appear. I eat a quick breakfast of bread and cheese with some of Cyndie’s fresh fig jam, and then head to the stables to offer a bit of support to Ian. He says that Lucy is looking thin again and decides to give the horses deworming medicine.

Stephanie and Cyndie come to the stables to assist and between the four of us, plus some peaches as enticement, we get medicine delivered to each of the horses. Then we all take a horse and move them down to the bottom field together. Ian suggests preparing the stables now, in advance of the horses return at the end of the day, so we won’t have to do it when we are in the middle of the grapes project that is expected to take the rest of the day. While cleaning and stocking food in the stalls, we get side-tracked by the increasing presence of wasps. We spontaneously find ourselves in a search of the area, looking for nests that must be the source of all the wasps. There is no immediate solution and the day is slipping away, so we finally make a point to get started on the picking of grapes.

There is really nothing special in terms of the process. We just cut the stem of a bunch and toss them into a plastic tub. It makes a very pleasing sound when a bunch of grapes plunk into an empty tub. Very soon, we hear the arrival of the first guests who will be assisting, Ricardo and Francisca, who get right to the task at hand. They are wonderful. Ricardo speaks a fair amount of English, and although Francisca is more hesitant, she does a pretty fair job as well. For a while she and I work together, teaming a ladder, and it seemed to me that we communicate just fine. Ian and I bring the first batch of grapes up to the winery and, almost ceremoniously, he has me dump them in the squisher and push the power switch, while he takes pictures with my camera. We settle into a routine of filling bins and then I haul them up and dump them.

In the middle of the day, Victoria arrives and she and Stephanie prepare a lunch of curry chicken over rice with a salad of mostly left-over makings from our dinner at Carlos’ the night before. Francisca has contributed a desert of an apple bake that is somewhat cake-like, made with organic apples from their home. I find it to be a particularly tasty treat.

While we were eating, the sound of helicopters appeared. It continued long enough, and seemed close enough –although we couldn’t see them over the ridge– that Ian walked around to look at the fire. He was able to spot it, and was satisfied we were probably not in danger. Later, there was the sound of a siren and Ian said it was the fire truck in town, which meant there was another fire, but the helicopters were already occupied with the first one. Fires are all too common an occurrence here and Ian takes care to minimize the risks where ever possible.

to be continued…

In the afternoon on Friday, Stephanie spent some time working on a project for school –a presentation that was due on Monday, while Cyndie prepared food for the dinner at Carlos’ that evening. They decided it would be best to pre-cook most of the food in advance, and then it would only need a little heating up when we get there.

The whole idea for this dinner started when Carlos had been unable to take Cyndie up on the offer of joining us for lunch earlier in the week. He countered with an invitation to his home where she could prepare a meal in their kitchen. His wife was going to be away, helping to pick grapes for other friends, so having a ‘guest cook’, and being able to show off the magnificent view from his kitchen, were two things that would make him very happy. Dinner at Carlos’ would also provide Ian with a new experience, as he had yet to enjoy such an opportunity.

It took us a while to decide what we could prepare that wouldn’t require extraordinary effort, didn’t involve ingredients that we didn’t have available, and might still offer something characteristic of us, as visitors to their region. I came up with meatloaf. It made us laugh, but it fit the criteria. Cyndie also prepared a cheesy-potato bake, some cut fruit, a lettuce salad, and ginger bread with lemon sauce. We packed it all in the back of Ian’s Forester, along with my guitar, and enjoyed a scenic drive to Carlos’ farm.

When we arrived, Carlos and his daughter, Rita (15 yrs), came out to greet us and help carry things inside. They offered a nonalcoholic grape drink that, to my palate, was less grape juice and more wine that hadn’t yet fermented. Carlos provided a brief tour, out to see his beautiful horses and walk a bit of his picture-postcard gorgeous property. He has a fantastic grove of olive trees and a significant number of grape vines. Cyndie had placed food in the oven to get it heating, and I am surprised we got away with being out of the kitchen as long as we were, without burning something. It is quite a feat that Cyndie pulls off, first preparing the food in advance in Ian’s kitchen, which is foreign to her, and then stepping into Carlos’ house for the very first time and accomplishing the meal in his kitchen!

The meal is a success. Even Rita appeared to like it. Rumor has it, she can be hard to please when it comes to food. To our surprise, Carlos’ mother prepared two desserts for us: an almond cake and kind of a rice pudding. Cyndie had already brought her peach cobbler with ice cream, so we had plenty of dessert. Even though he doesn’t drink any, Carlos had opened a bottle of wine for Cyndie to enjoy. Later he brings out a second bottle that they refer to as green wine, which is not aged for long. I believe it was one he made. Stephanie joins Cyndie in trying a taste of that. Finally, he gets up and opens a bottle of port wine and Ian agrees to have a small glass of that with the girls. Carlos is a very generous host.

Neither Carlos nor his daughter speak much english and initially, Rita hardly says anything. It is obvious the poor girl is battling a cold, and she excuses herself occasionally to blow her nose. She is truly model beautiful. At one point, she sets up her camera for auto-timer and captures a picture of us all at the table. After dinner, we sit around the table and I pull out my guitar to provide background music while we visit. Rita uses a little device to make cigarettes for Carlos. Then Rita and Carlos give Cyndie a tour of the house, which I have already seen. Cyndie’s abilities with Spanish seem to give her everything she needs to communicate. Rita becomes a bit more verbal. Meanwhile, Stephanie joins me in singing some abbreviated versions of Dylan songs, and then one by the Beatles.

When we notice feeling it is getting late to be out, especially since we have a big day of grape harvesting scheduled to start in the morning, we begin the process of preparing to go. Carlos needs to warn Cyndie twice, not to do the dishes; the second time, coming into the kitchen to cut her off from the task. She leaves some leftovers for them and we pack up the rest. He insists we take the rest of the desserts his mother prepared, still in the dishes in which they were served, telling us we can return them later. He wants to come with us to see the water fall on the other side of Mt Graça later in the week. We can return the dishes then, he offers.

The drive home in the dark is uneventful and we expend tired energy, tending to the putting away of all the leftover food we brought home, and feeding the dogs and cat. We also give the cat his medicine. We don’t get to bed until almost midnight.

Friday arrives. Cyndie got up and fed the horses, and then began working on her ongoing project of preserving both figs and peaches. After I finished doing some morning journal writing,  I went over to the main house to visit with Ian and eat my breakfast of bread, cheese, and fig jam. Cyndie was having some yogurt and peaches while she continued to work.

Ian and I began our day’s tasks with cleaning the stables.  Next, we made a run to pick up more sawdust. The route to the sawmill takes us on a beautiful drive around the valley and up beyond the ridge. Ian pulls up to a building that appears very residential, except that its cobblestone driveway extends beyond the front of the house into a lumber yard. The mill is obviously busy in production. Ian leaves the car in front of the house and we walk right through the bustle of man and machine and begin digging in a giant pile of sawdust to fill our bags. Ian digs in the pile and I tie the bags closed. Then he pulls the car up to as close as he is able and we load 10 full bags, just as it begins to drizzle a misty rain.

On the way back toward the farm, we pass by the place where his neighbor, Machado, is exercising his horse. Ian stops the car in the middle of the lane, debating the visit. He decides to back up a ways, to the front of Machado’s driveway to park, and we walk up the road to where Machado was working with his horse in his field. Machado pauses his training when he sees us and we have a very pleasant visit. He comes across as a very good-spirited man. I am, once again, relying on Ian’s gracious and patient translating. I am generally able to tell when he describes that I come from the state in the US where Bob Dylan is from.

While we were talking, Machado pointed out to Ian that it was possible to see Carlos making an appearance at the farm across the way. Ian cut our visit short and hustled us back to see if we could catch Carlos before he left. Luckily, we met him on the road and stopped to talk. He had driven all the way out to report that his daughter had a sore throat and maybe we should postpone tonight’s dinner date until Monday. Ian talked him out of it and said, after double-checking with me, we weren’t worried about being exposed to the illness, and maybe we could cheer Rita up. Ian told me that postponement could still run into a different conflict on Monday and then the odds of it happening begin to decline. Carlos was very agreeable to that. As fast as the plan was off, it was back on again.

Back at the stable, we are again cleaning up manure as we distribute the bags of fresh sawdust. We then take a look at the equipment that Luis and his father had dropped off and contemplate how we will use it all. There are plumbing issues and electric power requirements that will need addressing. With questions remaining, we decide to pause for lunch and think about it. I try looking on the internet for information about the process of pressing and de-stemming grapes. While we are still at the table, just about to serve coffee after the meal, Luis and his father show up again, to prepare the equipment. Problem solved! They say they will come back to tend to the processing of red grapes in the evening, yet they will have to do so without us, as we are to go to Carlos’ for dinner.

While we had been looking at the wine making equipment, Cyndie and Stephanie had taken the horses down to the bottom field. Ian decides we are free to take Cassius for a little walk and do some reconnaissance on the property. It doesn’t take long at all to discover our next project. The camellias need water! We collect the hose and begin a long process of watering from tier to tier. It is a special experience which brings you closer to each plant, and it gives me a better sense of each zone, and an awareness of just how much planting he has done here over the years. It is truly amazing.

By the time we finish the watering, it is necessary to get the horses back to their stables and then to clean up ourselves for our visit to Carlos’s for dinner.

Continuing with Thursday, September 23…

As I stepped out the door of the cottage for the first time in the morning, I found an unfamiliar car on the patio. Unaware of who was visiting, I decided to walk the other direction around the cottage, where I met Ian turning the corner and the car just backing out. Luis and his father had come to deliver the grape squishing device that will be used during the grape harvest on Saturday.

Ian talked through the wide number of chore options, while I assisted his effort to clean out the fresh manure from the stalls, and Cyndie cleaned the area around the stables. This is when Cyndie learned the phrase from Ian, “ship-shape and Bristol fashion.” Ian and I then hauled the bags of manure to the car and made a trip to spread it along one of the areas of vines. After that, we went down to finish the task we started the day before, cutting the bramble around the spring. It was a great reward to discover that, overnight, more water had appeared in the pool of the spring. Looking back on finishing the task of clearing the years of growth in that area, I marvel over what a monumental accomplishment it was, yet it was hardly a hint of what that garden was to become in the days and weeks that followed. I am humbled at the honor of being given the opportunity to be a participant in rearranging this space and creating, with stones and plantings, a new garden that will exist far beyond the limited time of our visit.

On our way back from the spring, Ian drove a route I had not yet seen, and when he spotted the biggest and oldest cork tree on the property, he became inspired to stop and cut around it. He described, and then showed me, how the trees form a sort of cathedral up to a spot of large moss-covered stone. The thought occurred to him that the arrangement of trees may have been inspired by cathedrals, or quite possibly, it was the other way around.

We came up for lunch and paused, to plot our next plan of attack. We had talked about running the errand of picking up sawdust for the stables, but that would wait and we decided, instead, to make a run to the supermarket for ingredients to make Friday’s dinner at Carlos’. Added to our day’s plan was the task of picking up Stephanie in town at 8 p.m., as she would be coming in on the bus. The bus makes a 55 minute drive into a 3-hour affair, but she would suffer it to join us a day early.

At the supermarket, we were able to see where Ian usually goes for his lunch and meet the nice waitress he has come to know, Christina. He reported that she had been in New York at the time of the terrorist attack on the World Trade Center towers. She appeared to be a very good-spirited person. While in town, we stopped at Carlos’ petrol station to fill the car, but Cyndie wasn’t feeling up to a visit. On the way home, Ian drove to the other side of the immediate valley to provide a view back at the farm from another perspective. It was a wonderful treat, except Cyndie wasn’t fond of the vertical view down the side at the very edge of the road. She was growing much more inclined to seek a nap, so we returned to the farm for her to do just that.

Ian and I were left to put away groceries and then decided the get the horses down to the bottom field. That meant I would walk Frida, while he was walking Lucy, which I had yet to attempt. Ian was willing to allow me to try, after checking first to see if I was willing. My foot got stepped on lightly as she pushed off once, in an abrupt position correction, but other than that, it went as well as I could ask.  We came back up and got Doll, wondering if Cyndie would still want to exercise Sebastian. I walked around the cottage to check and found her just stepping out, ready to go, after her short nap.

With her available to tend to Sebastian, Ian and I were free to cut undergrowth for feeding the horses. It had gotten cloudy while we were at the supermarket and sprinkled a little but, but now it was edging more toward being rain, though never really enough to make anything actually wet. It wasn’t enough to interrupt our plan, but this time, Ian was the only one cutting. I raked it up and stuffed it into the back of his Forester. It is part of the amazing total utilization of that vehicle. He drives it over sharp inclines and through thick growth that scuffs at the side panels. The inside contains evidence of sawdust and straggling remains of the cut underbrush. I told him he should look into a sponsorship from Subaru. It certainly is a testament to the intentions the vehicle was designed to accomplish, and not the window dressing that so many utility vehicles become. He brushes it out, folds the seats back upright, hoses off the outside, and it looks like new, ready for an errand to town.

When we returned from collecting feed for the horses, we found Cyndie in the shade house, transplanting camellias. Everything was clean and tidy in the area around the stables. It was very impressive. At this point, it was time to fetch Stephanie, which Ian did, freeing Cyndie and me to clean ourselves up before she arrived. We had a late dinner and then visited for a bit (although Cyndie spent most of that time doing the serving and then cleaning up). It reached a point where I was yawning and feeling very tired. We said goodnight and headed down to the cottage to find it was 11 p.m.

The entire day was fully and well used, especially considering the way it started, with Cyndie’s distraction of tasks that kept her from getting her fresh-peaches breakfast. No wonder she needed that nap today.

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.