I thought the hay/straw mulch I used in the raised beds last year was just brilliant. It dramatically slowed water loss from the soil – summer watering was cut from a daily ritual to a weekly one – and it suppressed an enormous amount of weed growth. So this year, as the area under cultivation has spread, so (thanks to 12 bales I managed to secure at the back end of last year) has the straw.
With the sudden advent of summer, we’ve been moving rapidly ahead on the rear roof. Three days of solid work has seen
Welcome though it’s been, the last month of rain has brought work on the roof behind the main building to a standstill. Jonny was able to construct all the wooden boxes for the slightly unconventional lighting system, but without a rain-free day to fit them, he never got to oversee the completion of his roof before he had to return to the UK. So this one’s for you, mate! (And by the way, I still have your fleece, your gloves – 2 pairs, your …)
Today, the sun returned, and with a rain-free forecast in prospect, we stripped the temporary plastic covering off the roof and got to it.
The light box assembly line. Wooden frames and lids assembled and waiting on waterproofing
One was clearly not enough. There was the thought of them all being uprooted for firewood. Then an olive tree-shaped space presented itself. And then there were the logistics of fitting in other deliveries of building materials … So we went right back for another.
Olive tree number two before leaving home. This is one I only narrowly rejected first time around
On a dull morning with rain threatening, we went up the mountain to the village above the quinta to meet the man with the digger. He had some olive trees he was digging up to plant a vineyard and he knew I was looking for one. We followed him up the mountain tracks to a slope above the village and he threw his arms wide. ‘Choose!”
I looked at the sorry-looking specimens, some of which were still hiding beneath a choking mantle of brambles and bracken, and wondered whether I should just say no thanks right away …
There is a saying about building. There is ‘good’, there is ‘fast’ and there is ‘inexpensive’. You can have any two.
This time last year I hired a local team of builders to put up a balcony and trellis on the main building, finish the schist facing stone on the log store, and re-roof the small building. I knew their work – many foreigners locally have had them turn schist animal houses into habitable structures – and it’s generally reasonable enough for the price, though you get what you pay for. I figured if I didn’t throw too many unfamiliar techniques and materials into the mix they couldn’t go wrong with a simple wooden structure. The main rationale was that they had ready access to the sizeable amount of chestnut timber which was needed to construct the balcony, and which we were struggling to lay our hands on, but in truth I was also succumbing to the frustrations of slow progress.
What a difference a fortnight can make. True to the Portuguese saying “Em Abril, águas mil” (lit. in April, a thousand waters), April showers began on April 1st, breaking the long spell of drought we’ve had since a few downpours in early November. Really though, it hasn’t rained ‘properly’ since last May. The amount that’s fallen so far is still small and only the top 8cm or so of the soil is damp, but the difference it’s made to the vegetation on the quinta is remarkable. A month ago, the raised beds looked all but empty bar the few stunted cabbages and remaining mangelwurzels that had managed to hold on through the dry winter and its frosts. None of the usual early vegetables were showing any signs of breaking dormancy and only the fruit trees were blossoming.
Now everything is transformed.
Work has been steadily progressing on the waterproofing-the-back-of-the-main-building project started back in January.
Today I took the horticultural fleece off the citrus trees. Not that the danger of frost is past, but it felt like the right time to do it. It’s warming up now and Spring is in the air, even if the drought conditions mean that very little is actually growing. Onions have yet to make an appearance. Last year they were already up in January. No sign of asparagus yet (also up in January last year). The cabbages that have managed to hold on through the combination of desiccating frosts and drought are small and look pretty sorry for themselves. The crab apple is in bloom though, primroses are everywhere and the self-seeded nabos are appearing, though less prolific than in previous years.
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