Sometimes It Rains, and Other Fun

Gathering Clouds Before the Storm

It's raining. Not just a gentle mist, but a steady, heavy, soaking rain. 

Spain is in the midst of a drought and here in the Alpujarras the impact is significant; last week we gave one of the shepherds a ride up the mountain while he talked on and on about climate change and the impact on his flock of 600 sheep. An extended drought could bring an end to the traditional ways that are such a part of the rhythms here.

Snow is falling in the mountains and that is very good news for the animals, plants and people who live here. We are behind where we were at this time last year, but hopes are high for a significant snow pack this winter.

When it rains we are reminded of how much of our life is lived outside. We typically spend much of the day either working in the yard, hiking, or just enjoying the sunshine.

On days like this Sam dashes outside to refill the firewood bucket, or clean the drains which quickly fill with fallen leaves. Images of a cozy wood-heated cortijo are a charming idea, but the reality involves shoveling hot ashes from the wood stove, wiping up muddy footprints and limiting our use of electricity because without sunshine, the solar system is not producing any power.  

Our lifestyle, while dependent on precipitation, thrives on clear, sunny days. But for now, two days into a three day storm, we are grateful; the rain is truly a blessing and we have plenty of wood for heat, a generator for electricity if needed, and a roof that doesn't leak, even in the heaviest downpour. 

Today's View

Last week we celebrated Thanksgiving with a small group of friends. I wanted to have a traditional meal and we shared it with two British families and one Scottish couple. 

I enjoyed preparing dishes that we typically eat at Thanksgiving, but the process was a little more cumbersome. I needed specific ingredients so went to the store with my list, written in English and translated to Spanish, and then I searched until I found what I needed. 

Of course there were no displays of Ocean Spray cranberries, but I found dried arándanos at the weekly market in Órgiva, and was able to make a delicious cranberry sauce. Growing up in Pennsylvania, stuffing was made from bags of Pepperidge Farm seasoned breadcrumbs, but this year I made cornbread stuffing and discovered I prefer that. 

I cracked some of our walnuts and then used my mother's recipe to make an appetizer of spiced nuts, and I made creamed mushrooms with chestnuts that we gathered on a recent walk. Cutting the stumps from the fresh mushrooms reminded me of time spent at my father's mushroom farm; it is curious how a smell can take us across years and miles to a distant moment in time.

Sweet potatoes, salads, roasted potatoes and nut bread rounded out the meal and a British friend made her first pumpkin pie while another brought an apple crumble; both perfect finishes to the meal.

Traditional Dishes - Stuffing and Sweet Potatoes

The turkey was Sam's responsibility. One of our neighbors raised three turkeys this year and together they butchered the one we called "Thanksgiving." The process was completed as kindly as these things can be, and several hours later Sam returned home with an enormous bird. It weighed over 15 kilograms, so nearly 35 pounds. 

Our initial plan of roasting the bird in our oven clearly needed to be revised. Not only was the turkey larger than any pan we had, but it was also too big for the oven. In the end we roasted the turkey in our barbecue. The bird hung over the ends of the pan, and it cooked more quickly than anticipated, but it was delicious and provided enough meat for weeks to come.

The day after Thanksgiving we drove high above Capileira and then took a short hike to a mirador, or scenic overlook. It was a stunning day and we were able to see all the way to Africa and the mountains of Morocco that are over 200 kilometers away. We passed only two other hikers on the mountain that day. 

Looking to the Mediterranean and Beyond

Wild Horses on the Mountain

How can it be that a place so beautiful and peaceful and rugged and wild and amazing, exists only for us? We are thankful that we so often have this all to ourselves, but it is unbelievable too.

Nothing Makes Me Happier

Autumn Tales

We usually try to wait until about 5:00 PM to light the fire.  During the day bright sunshine streams in our south-facing windows warming our cortijo. But as the sun slides behind the hill to our west, the temperature drops suddenly and it is time to close the shutters and light the fire. Some days, like today, I light the fire early. 

The sun is now popping over the mountain to the east around 8:15 AM. The temperatures overnight are dropping to five degrees celsius, yet once the sun appears, it warms into the teens in no time. 

We start our day outside most mornings, bundled in our fleece jackets; by the time we finish our mugs of café con leche, we have shed the outer layers as the morning sun combines with the hot liquid to warm us inside and out.

With the shorter days I need to get the laundry washed and hung out in order to capture enough sunlight to dry the load. This morning I started the laundry before my morning coffee and had it on the line by 8:30. Shadows come early to the place where I hang the wash, so soon Sam will put in posts for a winter clothes line, in a location that gets the maximum sun.

Early morning laundry

Today clouded up un-expectantly. The forecast was for poco nuboso, but it was actually mucho nublado as low clouds covered the mountains and hill tops around us. And so today I lit the fire at 3:00. 

Early fire

We are enjoying beautiful autumn weather. With the exception of one very impressive rain storm, we have had endless dry and warmer-than-usual days. We try to hike at least twice a week and our routes have included walks along the acequia through oak forests, returning to our favorite standby hike around the villages of La Taha, and up to the fire lookout high above our house.

La Taha walk

Hiking with neighbors who are now good friends

On our way to the fire lookout

Through the oaks

A hidden waterfall

Last week we went to Órgiva for the weekly market. We typically avoid going to town on Thursday because it is so busy on market day, but sometimes it is fun to participate in the weekly event. There is a vibrant energy in town on market day as people of all ages and varied backgrounds wander among the stalls considering fruit and veggies, clothing and housewares.

We parked at the edge of town and as we strolled towards the market I took photos of the numerous flowers that color the walls and walkways this time of year. 

Some of the flowers and fruits of autumn

The citrus trees are loaded and the fruit is turning from green to brilliant yellow and orange. I think it is perfect that as the days get shorter and the nights get colder, the oranges and lemons ripen bringing cheerful colors and the promise of fresh juice to each day.

There has been some turnover in our small community. One couple has moved out, going their separate ways and leaving a cortijo for sale. And a bit down the road another couple has arrived, moving here from Australia. 

Friendships develop quickly and with ease; probably a product of necessity. Years ago when I moved to Oregon from the East coast of the US I was struck by the openness of the people I met. In the East it seemed that people stayed close to family and lifelong friends, but outsiders were always going to be outsiders. I surmised that the openness in Oregon came from the time of the pioneers arriving by wagon train, each leaving family and everything familiar behind to start over in the foreign, fertile NW territory. 

Our experience here is similar. Each ex-pat has chosen to leave the ease of familiarity behind. And in our new lives we find quick acceptance and commonality, enjoying the trust and companionship that comes from genuine kindness and openness. 

Those who have been here the longest have not forgotten what it was like when they first arrived and because of that, when someone reaches out, there is always a hand to assist and an encouraging word of assurance that seemingly large obstacles are actually quite manageable. It is those relationships, both with ex-pats, and with some of our Spanish neighbors, that have made this all so pleasantly possible for us, and it is a pleasure to now offer our friendship and encouragement to the newest arrivals.

Not the colors of New England, but stunning just the same