Mmm! I wonder...

While spending the night watching the recent Tropical Storm Vince doing its worst, I couldn't help but wonder about the weather.

As thunder claps exploded over the land with a deafening roar and lightning tore at the clouds above; I decided to count the seconds between the two weather phenomenon to establish how much distance there was between the storm. Suddenly the whole landscape was illuminated by a series of lightening flashes and was accompanied the deafening boom of thunder overhead. Street lights in the surrounding villages went out for a moment, no sooner were they re-lit than the storm blew them out again. Vince is here! There is no distance between us.

After long minutes of intense storm activity the period between thunder bolts and lightning flashes lengthened a little, I began to count ....

And then it struck me! The thought not the lightning. At home the measurement was 1 second to mile, but here in continental Europe they measured distance in kilometers; here maybe 1 second equals 1 kilometer rather than a mile. Perhaps they have metric weather?

Climate change!

The changeable nature of the worlds weather has become an obsession for media commentators around the world. Spain is no exception, exceptional weather has been this years norm.

In little over a year I have experienced the hottest summer, the coldest winter and the most prolonged period of drought in the last 120 years. When the drought finally ended the rains brought by tropical storm Vince brought chaos and wide spread damage to the Costa Brava coastal region; 272 liters of rain fell per m2 in a period of 48 hours.

With resevoirs at 35% capacity everyone wanted the rains to come, but with so much in such a short period of time the flood water washed away crops and roads, and did little to alleviate the water shortage.

Salon de Bal

Social dancing is thriving in the northern towns and villages of Girona. Posters can often be seen on prominent display for a coming Salon de Bal to be held at the local social centre. Dance classes are available at several venues around the city, all in all it would seem to be a popular past time.

Today I received this photograph from my mother showing, a slightly younger version of me receiving an award; from the International Dancing Masters Association for ballroom and modern sequence dancing.

I am therefore equipped to set the dance floor alight at the next Salon. Maybe not a Gigilo but certainly a Jig.

Should I display my credentials? Perhaps I could wear my medals, or would it be more discrete just to leave the certificates lying around?

The boys from the Blackstuff!

“Do you speak a little English?” Said the Irishman at the door.

“Yes, I am English”

“Well if you can manage a little English we should be fine”

“Would you be interested in a little tarmacadum? for the road there”

“I was wandering when you would show up” I laughed, “unfortunately it’s not my road, it belongs to the town”

“It’s not yours but surely it’s part of the land!”

“It looks that way but it isn’t.” I continued, “I know that the mayor is looking at road works at the moment why don’t you go to the town hall and offer to tender for the work”

“They tend to be fond of the paperwork at the town hall, that all takes time.”

“What about dese fellas down here” he said indicating the Huerta at the bottom of the nearby field

“The house is owned by an elderly Catalan couple who don’t speak English. However that’s were the town hall are considering the road works; but you need to go through the system.”

“I could just have a quick word with them down there about the road; we don’t need to worry about the paperwork.”

“How come you are in this neck of the woods” I asked.

“Oh we come through this area every year about now, just doing the farms like” he replied before adding “I’m looking for an old English car if you‘ve got one, don’t mind if it’s a ringer.”

He gave me the number of a mobile he was currently using, to contact him if I found any work for him.

“Who shall I ask for?” I enquired.

He seemed to be considering this, as he wrote 'JoHn' on the piece of paper.

It was as if he was writing his name for the first time.

Round the mulberry Bush

It turns out that the three trees which provide some much needed shade on the patio are mulberries. Very sweet and subtle in flavour. I have frozen 6 kg of the fruit for use in deserts and ice creams, for every berry I pick another fifty are dislodged and fall to the ground.

The berries are so sweet, that when bruised they release there sugary juices, coating everything that comes into contact with them. The ground is covered with spoiled fruit and in turn the fruit is covered in insects. The fruit is attracting a lot of interest from the neighborhood birds. There are those birds which feed directly on the fruit; and others like the bee eaters who feed on the insects that feed on the fallen fruit.

Everyone walking into the house leaves a trail of rotten fruit behind. This is a tree which should be planted away from the house.

Life

The sheep are growing fast now. They arrive in a cloud of dust stirred by their 2000 feet. In there wake, the cattle egrets feed on the grasshoppers and crickets they have disturbed.

In the finca I can see that two ewes are looking distressed. They are either side of the boundry tape seperating our land from the adjoining field. Francisco is sat on a wall in the shade with the two sheepdogs at his feet; he is across the field from the two ewes and waves to me. As I walk towards the distressed animals intending to lower the boundry tape and reunite them, I notice that the ewe in the field has afterbirth hanging from her rear end. Lying very still in the barley stubble is a small lamb. The lamb is exposed to the baking sun and showing no sign of life. I wave to Francisco to attract his attention, he waves back at me as if in greeting. Beckoning more urgently results in Fransisco crossing the field towards me. He looked upon the lamb without concern and told me that had been born within the last hour and would be ok. It was he said, the sixth lamb to be born in the last two days. He took the tiny animal by its rear legs and dangled it over his shoulder ride for the long journey home.

As the two dogs rounded up the straying sheep I remarked that the herd were looking well.

' Sí bueno, pero en un más mes, de muerto!' as he spoke he drew his right hand across his throat in a cutting motion.

The sheep we watered each day, which grazed on our land amongst the rosemary and mint were nearer their life journeys end.