Jungles of Portugal

We have quite settled into Northern Portugal’s Spring where we’re making important decisions about our future, including, for me, which hearing aids to purchase, and for Linda, which eye should be first for the multi-focal-ocular-lens replacement; it was the left.  On trips, she can now read signs before they come over the horizon.  Other Springtime concerns are, where the best Mexican food is to be found (Porto) and how long it takes to drive to Gadis grocery store in Tui, Spain if you just go and come home (two hours) or if you stop in A Guarda for lobster (four to five hours).  Of our several trips there, only two have been the two-hour version. 

Closer to home, I recently caught my stork family in the middle of their courtship ritual. Her Grace was sitting attentively in the nest, dutifully watching Sir PranceAbout arch his neck backwards over his body until he resembled a baritone saxophone.  I’m certain it was Himself, for only we men are willing to be so ridiculous just for a little play time.  She is now sitting on eggs, but sweeter still, last week in the cold rain, Her Grace was sitting in the nest and PranceAbout was standing over her with his wings akimbo . . . saxophone-to-umbrella.  Chivalry rings out.

Still closer to home, our jungle is finished and it is stunning if I do say so.  Nine or ten enormous Strelitzia grace the stone courtyard in immense pots that are set on roller bases so that one can reconfigure one’s jungle at a whim.  The gorgeous Japanese Maples, also in huge rolling garden boxes, can line up by the gate to greet a visitor or snug into the corner to provide shade for the bird feeder.  

Señor Carlos, an incredibly talented craftsman, is our newest hero . . . he can do anything.  So far, by himself, he’s dug out the grass and replaced it with beautiful stone set in concrete over a sand base, cleaned and repaired our roof, rejuvenated the shop roof to fix those pesky leaks, completely remodeled both upstairs bathrooms, built some steps, replaced a kitchen faucet and there must be more, I forget . . ..  He is a small, wiry man, 58ish and as strong and agile as they come.  When he was building the courtyard, one could find him mixing concrete in a little portable mixer and then pushing a wheelbarrow of “product” to the far reaches of our garden where he’d already levelled the sand bed to exacting tolerances.  He poured the concrete onto the sand and, with long boards, smoothed and contoured it slightly to ensure run-off in the right direction; and then back to the mixer for another batch.  He did this all by himself and the first batch was over 100 feet from the mixer.  He’s almost unbelievable…so fast it seemed like magic.  We are lucky to know Señor Carlos.

And then Yuri, our magnificent and equally talented friend from Ukraine, is a constant force-for-good.  Among many other projects, he and I have built a tall arbor and bolted it to the courtyard stones and the front wall.  We covered it with the ubiquitous green wire mesh seen at every house and covered that with bamboo matting. The Passion Fruit vine in the big garden box (not on wheels) is growing up one wall of the arbor and seems to make about two inches a day . . . almost frightening growth.  I feel uneasy standing with my back to the vine.  But in two seasons I’m told it will cover the entire arbor and we’ll have perpetual shade for the big delicious dinners that will surely be enjoyed there.  

So yes, we are still very much enjoying life in Portugal.