Late July and it’s been a cruel, cruel summer…so far. Enough sweat has already been expelled from our bodies to fill an English village pond (we’ve written about the heat before).
Unable to simply hang up their fur coats like Zsa Zsa Gabor in a Bel Air restaurant, the cats have found their favourite spots which they return to every day: the ironing board in a dark room; a den in the bamboo; a rickety sunbed; and, the most rotund of all, under the floorboards of a wooden shed. They look at us as if the world is ending.
Every year the prickly pears are covered in white cochineal insects – so an early start to remove them is required before the sun rises over the Cerro Negro, battering the surrounding land into submission. At this hour the whole world seems to be sleeping as the Sierra de Lújar slowly switches channels from black & white to colour.
This morning, Venus could be seen in the eastern sky like a porch light someone had forgotten to switch off the night before. Almost in an instant, it disappeared as the bats did hours earlier, only to be replaced by swifts with their beautiful curved wings.
It gets hot very quickly in the morning as the cicadas – toys with faltering batteries, clicking and buzzing in their relative slumber – soon erupt into a cacophony of noise that lasts until sunset. There’s a daily visit to the morgue – the pool, where several have crash landed overnight. Net in hand, they’re fished out along with other critters and olive tree leaves.
Ants continue to build their underground empires while wasps are attracted to the ripening grapes on the vines above our heads. We’re all here for a reason, despite picking fights with each other now and again.
So, for the moment, it’s all about the heat and keeping things alive such as tufts of basil, parsley and sage – and various vegetables. We leave you with the lovely Keren, Sara and Siobhan reminding us to water the plants this evening (in our garden, not New York City).
© con jamón spain