Kids leaving home & Yoga at Christmas in the Bajan Sun - by Vonetta

We've been having another super summer here at Vale de Moses. So many guests once again have made long trips from all over the world to spend a week or 2 with us in our home in these remote Portuguese mountains. Doesn't feel so remote here when we're surrounded by all these lovely people. You should see some of their sweet photos of their stays on our FB page and some kind words in reviews on our new Trip Advisor page.

We’ve had tremendous help from lots of great people too. Our Karma volunteers have relentlessly and cheerily washed dishes and tidied spaces. Katherine Smith has continually created culinary delights in our kitchen, wrote our first retreat menu cookbook and teaches her afternoon yin yoga classes. Fleur van Hille from Amsterdam is sadly leaving us today after running 4 inspirational vinyasas flow retreats in July and August. And Peter Packard, who Maria Mercati (my TCM teacher from Body Harmonics in the UK) sent us, has been brilliantly massaging our guests this summer and treated me too with regular with acupuncture and Thai, keeping my own body in good energetic shape for teaching and treating everyone that comes here.

Pete and I have decided to run our first Thai Massage Course with Yoga this October, 19th to 25th. We're really looking forward to it. If it goes well, we plan to run a few more courses next year too.

Big family changes are on the close horizon for us in the next few weeks. My Eloise got accepted into Art School in Lisbon, António Arroio. So she’ll be leaving home end of September to stay with a family there until we can find a place to rent together in Lisbon from January onwards. Gulp.

Joshua is also moving to Castelo Branco to finish off his last year at a new school, Nuno Alvares, studying Physics. He’s in England at the moment with Andy’s folks touring a few universities to consider. So both Eli and Josh are leaving home at the same time in under a month!! A little earlier than we had thought they would. Andy keeps telling me "breathe, Vonetta, breathe. Change is inevitable. It’s all gonna be OK."

I went shopping with Ellie and a friend of mine the other day and picked up a number of items of clothing I felt best represented my present incarnation as Von.  As I lifted up the choices for my friend’s inspection, I was thinking “yep, nice look”.  My friend raised her nose, smiled out of the corner of her mouth and noted “you can take the island girl to the city and through the desert and place her in the middle of the Portuguese forest, but you definitely can’t take the island out of the girl!”  I looked again at the clothes, one with a palm tree printed over bright magenta, others with orange, sunshine yellow or cobalt blue fabric.  I smiled back recognising the truth of her statement. I am an island girl and that is never going to change, no matter how far I have come since leaving Barbados at 17.  I left the shops that day knowing what I really wanted. To go home to that beautiful, feisty tiny rock in the middle of the cobalt Caribbean Sea, and teach some yoga surrounded by real palm trees.

Teaching and living in a temperate climate like this in Portugal is exciting.  As the seasons change, so too does my yoga practice.  More expansive in the summer months. More internalised in the cold winter months. Feeling the surge of energy as the Spring sap rises in the forest, and being refreshed by the Autumn rains as they douse the acute dryness of our long summer months. Yet there is nothing like practicing in a constant climate - the day and night temperatures are relatively stable in Barbados. Even the sea temperature varies little.  Air humidity is moist with a cooling drying sea breeze.  This constant temperature means that the body has the opportunity to remain in a pretty constant state of muscular relaxation. There are no sudden cold chills to shorten the back of the neck and lock the hips.  Flexibility is greatly improved by consistency, not only consistency of practice but also consistency of environment.

While recently away with Andy and the kids (and Sally & Jonathan my inlaws) on the Costa Vicentina in June, down on the South West gorgeousness of Portugal, I needed a vigorous practice of backbends, handstands and salutations before my body temperature was high enough to cope with the invigorating Atlantic sea.  It was fun to run around, get hot and then charge into the ocean, but I definitely felt the need for strength over flexibility.  While lying on the sand recovering from the shock and thrill of the cold water, I found my memory drawing me to a particular practice time I experienced last year when we ventured back to Barbados.  It was one of those practices you don’t forget easily. Instant ecstasy.

Everything feels more alive when we practice outside especially with the song of tropical birds in the ears and a turn to face the waves of the ocean or a monkey stealing a mango from its tree. A pre heated supple body, softened by an early morning swim in warm clear water retreating from the Caribbean sun to a shaded veranda for a long slow indulgence in the fine art of stretching and breathing.  I began the practice that morning with breath work and was immediately delighted by the ease of my breath. Warm salty water into the nose from the sea rather than from my usual neti pot meant my breathing was silky smooth and entirely relaxed.

In my sun salutations, I felt like a hot knife moving through room temperature butter as all 650 plus muscles in my body surrendered to the Bajan sun. There was no crunch in the spine as I slid from Chaturanga Dandasana to Updog.  I was able to assess the liquid nature of my spine as I folded into forward bends and the strength of fully relaxed muscles as I sprung into Full Wheel.  For the first time in several years I was able to effortlessly place both feet behind my head and sit, it was so good to experience easy open hips.  I emerged from Yoga Nidrasana thinking once again, “This yoga shit is the bomb”.  My mind was quieted and utterly present as the gentle swish of the lapping sea, placed me in a mellow mood.  I walked along the beach after practice towards the kids snorkling with Andy out on the reef and as my entire pelvis swayed effortlessly from left to right I lost the sensation of having bones or separate parts.  The supple nature of my spine made me feel somehow taller and thinner.  Liquefied is the word that most aptly describes the experience of practicing yoga in Barbados. My nervous system in tune with my mood worked with me and everything within flowed as one.

My practice on the beach in Barbados that day made me realise that I wanted to find a way for others to feel this comfortable while practicing yoga. For those who struggle with tight hamstrings, stiff hips and a rigid lower back, retreating to my little island might be just the thing for them to escape the pain and discomfort in their bodies that colder northern winters often bring. When we got back to Portugal we decided we’d run retreats there one day if we ever found the right place.

Bathsheba along the East Coast of the island has always been my favourite part of the island.  Our Sunday afternoon family outings there as a child always involved a drive and rest watching the waves of the Atlantic ocean crashing against the shore.  My mum and my dad both live in more populated and buzzing parts of the island. Bathsheba in contrast ushers in an energy of reverence as the small hills and dunes formed out of the flat chalk areas of the rest of the island and scenes of busy hotels and home districts fade to small wooden chattel houses and fecund tropical vegetation.  No matter the time of year we could always find a good breeze to lift the spirits and dry away the tropical humidity, easing us into serenity. Bathsheba gave me this as a child and 25 years later nothing has changed, serenity is still very much the spirit of the east coast.

Earlier this year my Dad called to say he had found us the perfect place to have Yoga Retreats and it was, of course, in Bathsheba.  A newly built retreat called Lush Life with a dozen or so luxury eco lodges, set in an 18 acre palm tree forest far from the often overcrowded parts of the island with their big hotels. We checked out their website and Youtube video and I immediately knew where we were going to be spending our winters from here on in, out of the European wet and cold and in with the new, hot Christmases of yoga and gentle rebalancing and maybe a little partying at night on the lively South Coast bars and clubs.

So we’re off to Barbados this December. Just for a couple of weeks this time. December 16-30. In these retreat weeks we will yoga chill, immerse ourselves in the tropical heat, moisture and natural Vitamin D boost of the sun, and explore a more supple, yielding, willing, adaptable body, possibly a little freer from our winter aches and pains.

My shopping friend was right, I am indeed still Vonnie from Barbados and I’m sooo looking forward to sharing my little island with those coming with us this Christmas.

When we return to Portugal in the New Year, it will be to a new phase of our lives, based more in Lisbon, until our 2015 yoga retreat season starts again at Vale de Moses.  We will have spent 7 years living here full time in this beautiful peaceful forested valley, and from January our adventure and our daughter are drawing us to the charming capital city of Lisbon.  Perhaps we’ll add to our annual retreat calendar, not just more Thai Massage courses and winter trips to Barbados, but also some short Spring and Autumn city breaks in Lisbon with yoga classes and treatments. I wonder....:)

Watch this space.

Peace and Love

Vonetta xxx

A few plugs

Just wanted to share the sites of 4 of our lovely yoga guests this month. First is Tashi Dawa, the beautiful dancing, singing, travelling, Aussie yoga teacher who won our hearts, taught us loads and encouraged us immensely during her stay here at Vale de Moses. Tashi, you have one more place on this amazing planet that you can consider home.

Second plug is for Chris and Anette (they're not the ones in the photo) who return on Monday to stay with us til Christmas in our newly restored Adega (new photos up next week) down by the river that runs through this valley, to deepen their practice of Suikido, a wonderful blend of dance, martial arts and yoga. We'll be building a new straw bale yoga shala / dojo this summer on the sugar maple tree terrace at the top of land, which we will be delighted to share with them while they are here.

Third 'shout out' is for the new yoga meditation pillows, Place, designed by Xana Lopes, a Portuguese shiatsu and reflexology therapist who is with us this week, and her sister. The pillows are big and generous and allow even for me to sit for more than 20 minutes without my body moaning. And that's saying something. We'l try to get some shots next week of the pillow in action to prove the point.

The last and most delicious plug of all today, is for a very special Dutchman, Jan-Bas, who is here to deeply recuperate after 2 years of hard hard work launching a precious gift to the world. The raw chocolate fair trade finest ingredients phenomenon Lovechock. They want to connect people with the pure essence of cocoa and put happiness inside of us all. Bless. If you are in Holland or Germany go ask your local health food shop to get it in. We can't wait til they start distributing this manna from heaven in Portugal. Força Lovechock!!

Até já

Memphis

Good Bye Mac Dada, by River

It is the end of spring and the fires have been packed away for the year.   The air is thick with warmth and moisture; the moisture will remain for a few more short weeks before the ravages of summer arrive.  The day is unusually clouded.  The clouds, friendly and plump in character confirm the muted enclosure of the landscape.  On days like these everything is quiet, even the little translucent moths are less hurried than usual.  The dreamy charm of the landscape is enhanced, by the beginning of the roses unfurling.  The old roses have begun to tumble over the mossed stone walls, their thin thorny stems heavy with bloom.  This short and spectacular display I have waited for all year will be over soon but for now we are enclosed in a world of petals shocking pink, or bright garish lipstick red, or purest snow, white.  The new roses of apricot and cream planted to surround the kitchen garden are just swelling in bud and I will see them for the first time this year.   The smell of roses drifts through every window, lifted as it were from the opening petals by the humidity and heat.  I find myself doing any job that allows me to see them and smell them.  It is almost impossible to step away from their frivolous decadent generosity so delicate in this, timeworn part of the world. 

The day is almost tropical in quality and recalls a garden I grew up in.  A garden of mango trees that towered over my head the fruit tantalizingly out of reach, and banana groves, of bougainvillea falling over walls all the colours of the rainbow echoed in their soft tissue like bracts.  In my imagination I can see a man walking and watering and weeding and preening and primping over his plants.  I can almost smell him warm and salted from the tropical heat.  I can see his face creased with concentration determined to grow fine roses in spite of the inappropriate climate.  Sitting here it is amusing to think he tried to grow roses in his bountiful garden when bougainvillea grew like a weed.  Here I am thinking of how to grow a little bougainvillea in this temperate climate when roses grow like weeds.  It is always the same with us gardeners, the desire to grow the impossible because a plant reminds us of someone or a scene or a memory, or is just so beautiful that our desire is ignited and we just have to have it. 

I remember him waking and stretching in the morning, before donning his filthy old work clothes, sharpening his knife on an old belt head bowed and face in deep concentration not even his breadth could be heard.  He never went out before greeting his pack of dogs, gathering his tools and stepping out into his landscape to fulfill his ever growing desire for heaven on earth.  He demanded that I read my dictionary and anytime he came into a room I found myself sitting bolt upright, immediately wanting to look, well, occupied.  Laziness was not to be tolerated, and yet, he never moved quickly, he never spoke quickly, he didn’t even blink quickly.  He was powerful and a little scary, but I can find no memory of him raising his voice to me.  When or rather if the day’s work was completed successfully and his light shone on you, you wanted to stay in it forever.  To me he was a typical gardener where his every mood was so linked to the successful growth of his plants.  This man was my Grandfather, who I liked to call Mac Dada.  He was one of my first gardening teachers and yet he never said a word to me of plants, other than, “Go eat the cherries or go pick some mangos” always words to encourage a taste filled relationship so to speak.  I watched him, working tirelessly on his land, sweating profusely with the effort to assist nature and to see emerging from the soil some seed that had first formed in his imagination.  To my eyes, it seemed that some great symphony occurred between him and the soil, his subtle refined breathing, music to the plant matter that eagerly rose from the ground just to please him.  What he did with that landscape over his lifetime could only be said to be miraculous, and yet not many people will ever see his garden or what his human hands made of that place.  Perhaps this is the way that the greatest gardeners are, hidden and secret.

My grandfather died today.  I am very far away from that garden and sad that I never got to see him for one last time or talk with him about my growing obsession with plants.  As I sit here at the computer with my dogs curled at my feet and the fine old roses falling over the walls I know that I owe a great deal of my life to the time that I lived with him in the West Indies.  Goodbye Dada, you were a wonderful gardener, I watched you turn a barren hard piece of land into a virtual paradise through tireless effort.  I hope to be as dedicated a gardener as you were.  Today each petal of the roses that hits the ground will be a prayer for you, I hope that wherever you are now there is a garden without weeds or little things that bite, where all is crystal clear and growing on a wish and a breadth.

Today also another garden is being left behind.  Andy’s Mum and Dad will be leaving their beautiful London garden, a paradise of dedication of nearly half a century.  It was in this Dulwich garden that I first bowed down and gazed up into the cheeky face of my very first daffodil.  It is so very hard to leave one’s garden behind, but then all life moves on to new gardens and new planting opportunities.

“And all shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well.  When the tongues of flame are in-folded.  Into the crowned knot of fire. And the fire and the rose are one.”   T.S. Eliot

Boa Viagem

River

"The Joy of Yoga"

A big thanks to Emma who writes the Joy of Yoga blog, for posting up her interview with Vonnie yesterday.

Vale de Moses: Yoga, Massage, and Acupuncture in the Portuguese Mountains

One of the best things about the racket I run here are the folks I "meet" from all over the world. This week I received emails from Germany (Hallo, Bettina!), Guatemala, (Hola, Annie!), and-- as you may guess from the title of this post-- Portugal.

Ola, gorgeous Vonetta. Vonetta is the Senhoria of Vale de Moses, a retreat center in the Portuguese mountains. She read some of my posts from the past years about yoga and gardening (the season of which is upon us! Hurrah!) and emailed me about some upcoming yoga and gardening in Paradise (I mean, Portugal) retreats she has coming up. After some email correspondence, I decided I didn't want to keep her all to myself, so (without further ado, or further parenthesis), I introduce something very exciting....

Caught from Freefalling. By River

Sometimes, just sometimes the spirit falls, falls into poverty.  Sometimes we see the signs of death of loss of all that we have lost along the struggle, for personal freedom and integrity at every turn.  This falling to me feels very much like a dance, a leap and a freefall into sadness, fear and despair.  I fell recently, I fell so hard and so fast my head spun.  In truth, it span and fell with love.  It’s funny when that happens when we walk with the soul bare and stripped.  Recently, my tears just fell and fell unheeded sometimes with love, sometimes in fear sometimes in just having lost my compass.  

It is at these times when we feel our most alone, when we feel that the sun will never shine again.  When we feel the dying pains of the earth and those around us that help is required.  And, oh what help has come to me.

Today, my Memphis came home from a trip to see his family with my old car from London full of my Mummies life and presents from his Mum, Dad and Aunty Sally for the kids.  How to explain the feeling of receiving a car load of soft velvet curtains, and string, and knitting needles and all the lovely soft aspects of the feminine, of the womanly?  We Winters have moved 8 times in three years, we have spent some hard winters here in Portugal and some glorious springs.  This winter was most definitely the hardest for me, we arrived in our home so to speak and I unpacked and saw all that had been left behind.  What grace, what joy to still be here, to be finally indoors and playing with soft things.  To be reminded that though I may belong to the clan of the wild woman, a woman who gardens on the edge of wilderness and fights with all her strength to provide for her family that I am still someone’s daughter, daughter-in-law, neighbor, friend, niece, sister, cousin, lover, mum and of course dog mum.   

Finally the great deep depth of earth we will use for our vegetable patch is drying out and I have dug over 5 beds now.  My heart is so full of gladness to still be here, to finally be here. To be here with my Mum and my kids and to have so much of Memphis’ family all over our walls and in the kitchen cupboard and on the kitchen table.    Yes "Tom"  all we do need is love and an infinite amount of patience.  

I still hope for everything we came here for.  A thriving vegetable patch, flowers at every turn, repaired stone walls, chickens, ducks, sheep, more dogs and of course people.  Will those things happen?  Who knows, but how can we live without dreaming, without hoping beyond hope.  At the end of these days of daily action and single steps, step by step, the only thing I can now do is bow to devotional love, the love of karma of joy of fulfillment in each day, irrespective of the actions taken or the success of individual projects.  

Thank you for the encouragement Sally, Papops and Aunty Sally.

Om shanti, Peace and Love. Beloved. 

River xxx

Arcs of Light in the Forest. By River.

Nature’s fluffy softness begs us to forget that we are tender and fragile.  Inch by inch, step by step we seek to learn a new way to live.  Every every stone laid, every wall plastered, every nail hammered, every seed sown we hope leads us closer to home and the illusive, corner of the eye vision we seek.  We breathe in and out and appear brave, while caution pricks on like a thorn for Eve’s rib. But ashes to ashes and dust to dust it’s just us the Winters playing and singing and shredding and feeling the firm dark earth. 

Each new detail brought into focus clarifies a little more of the picture.  Each picture we see shows beauty and perhaps the need for a little more effort, more work, and more projection of will or is it subjugation, surrender?  Inside we are moving and slowly tuning into a smooth groove.  We now see clearly where effort honours will, in this grounding, wisdom like a Forest grows, but on the other hand let’s call it what it is a thrill, a  joy to be here right here right now.

Nature weaves her seasonal tapestry around us, we become more attached, interwoven.  In a swiftly fleeing arc of revolutionary light we glimpse ourselves connected to an ill formed but nonetheless growing body of people seeking a new way of life built on old foundations and places forgotten by the many but held by a few.  We seek not an escape from work, for here there is work a plenty.   Instead, we seek another kind of release, a break free from the title of slave, wage, slave, a new tune of living, jungle book style for a little while at least. The boundaries of our golden vision are linked, chained and fenced in by joy.  In this context of links growing, connections forming, relationships blooming we feel a little more secure, rich in green fields, blue skies and roses out of stones. 

Within this glorious light of courage there remains a sense of disconnection of not yet rootedness.  “What can I contribute?  How can I earn and stay out of the business scheme?  Will my children receive all that they need?  Am I enough or do they really need all that stuff the advertisers say they need?”  Ripples of consternating sensation prostrated in the face of a beautiful dawn or sunset but heard, in the dark when we lay awake and wonder, “Are we crazy?  Should we return to the city?  Are we more secure here or there?”  Here.  For sure. 

If you should ever come this way may we suggest a little game, better than counting sheep or hiding the head in sand.  Stretch your eyes over the land and set a square vision.  Try with all your might to replace every tree with a sky obliterating tower block.  It has never been the case that we have managed to replace even one tree.  So, though fragile we may be we dance and play on to a life of creativity, learning and await the call of revolution beyond what we here can offer.   We shred Olive leaves and get ready to cover the earth for this year’s garden.   An old skin, of an old self is dropped, a wet, heavy, suffocating coat to be stripped off and thrown.

A new celebration, where pictures are on walls and the firewood in the new shed.   Where time has been spent in family and in friendship; where at the end we will still feel warm, not coldly enslaved but free to learn over a slower pace, thank God.   I hope we minions take our festivals back.  I hope, we return to tribal unity, brotherly affection and sisterly love and the bosom of light bringers wherever they are to be found even if it all seems upside down.

Strike up the band and play a new blues.  Let the Light shine through the impenetrable undergrowth of debt.  Let the snakes run to their holes of commerce and we earthlings, return to our Forest homes or to the nearest still alive tree.  We are cashing in our coupons, checking out of the swelling need to buy something, taking our toys home and refusing to play.  We are fragile, tender and bravely trying to save our souls and honour the complex rich family life of us, just us and yes indeed yes it helps when you fall and there are so many lovely friends and family to help you get back on track.  Spread a bigger net, enlarge your tent and coppee down to the daffodils, tinkle on the piano, read nice notes from Aunties,   O + Live, O + Love, honour the oneness all around.

Happy 12th Birthday Eloise! By River

As those of you who have been reading our blog might well know, I have not been very well over the Christmas holidays, but it’s a New Year, 35 litres of olive oil pressed and today is my daughter’s birthday.  I never knew that there was so much love in my life.  I am the kind of head down get to work sort of girl, with a tendency to skim my eyes over the tops of trees and feel the blue skies endlessly stretching over head.   It’s the light here that I love the most, it sparkles and bounces off every surface and calls me awake every day. 

Today began with a warm fire on and frozen pipes, after all it is still winter time, my favorite season.  The sun is rising over the little village of Amieira and the mist has already passed over the river and been on its way. 

My daughter came into this world ready, blue eyes steadily gazing at us as if to say I have been waiting to meet you. Why does everything take such a long time?  She was desperate to get out and stretch those beautiful long limbs of hers.  After an hour and a half of labour, there she was and next to me alone in our bedroom my beautiful husband and best mate.  When we crawled into bed and awoke Joshua such a feeling of completeness took over me that I knew I would never recover from this kind of loving.  

So we called her Eloise Grace Winter.  Eloise, warrior of light and the name of my grandmother Grace a state of loving kindness which we all hope to live under and Winter, the family name of my beloved husband and his beautiful family. 

This morning, while the children were still sleeping, I took a walk around our frozen patch of heaven and felt the ice and stone crunching under my boots.  Moses our dog is all too keen to get going in the  morning and I can never resist his eager dawn greetings, so, slightly frozen I ventured out.  I am now walking in my daughters’ shoes of two years ago, she is twelve but she is bypassing me so fast that often my mind is in a blur.  Slow down girl, I always want to say but how could she when there is so much beauty and laughter she wants to share each day.

We Winters have finally moved into our home and are finding our rhythm, the daffodils planted by the previous owners of our house over 40 years ago are flowering, soaking up and dragging each drop of sunshine to the ground.  I have started clearing the vegetable patch and the forest s as green as anyone can imagine as green as my little girls eyes today.  The sky is blue and crisp and I know I will see this in her eyes too.  How could there be anything else but joy in our lives today?  Another day of play.

I have always loved the children’s birthdays best and today we will be hanging out with our gorgeous friends Shanti B from Angola and Emma from Ireland and Ellie’s lovely Portuguese  friend from school Joanna, and the  cacophony of heritage that we the Winters represent.  Praise and love be ever present.  Today, on my daily walk in my daughters’ shoes I am reminded yet again of the many actions that needed to take place in order for us to be here.  I see the sign of my daughter to remind me that I am home, “Moses”, I see the boat of some friends waiting for their return, I see Olive leaves and upturned trees, the hard crunch of stone and the ever-present sound of the river below combined with the wind in the trees and the birds chirping the morning sound remind me of how grateful I truly am that we are finally at home, again.  

Thank you all my friends for your loving kindness and the big net you have all spread to help me come all the way back round to the same rising lights.  Obrigada.

Here is a Poem for the Girls who will Rip your Heart Out and Show You How to Love

Her colour vibrates

She awakens and enlivens

Every moment with Sound

Intuitive

A spiritual gift

In her I see

Healers

Empathy

Mission

Connected numbers

Chronic pain of a toxic world released in laughter

Physically, Emotionally

Environmentally, Spiritual

Remarkable

When, 

schooled in love

Every emotion is held in her presence

Crystal light is this child

All the while still the same as she came

A veil is pulled back in each generation

Her every utterance s a heart string pulled

She sits pink, divinely feminine

Unabashed energy held within a structure

All power, all gravity and light

She sees sickness before the tide swells

And vibrates, shake and tell

Loving forgiveness

Cuddling touch, kiss and hugs

This way to play

Her mass of rare precious light will not be

Patronised, manipulated or lied to

Give me beauty and truth

Telepathic or just switched on

Come into the world as royalty

And act that Way

Fearlessly sensitive

Not afraid to feel and live

Draw to the light

Moths die at the heat of the bulb but still come

A multi- coloured dress enters my world
And I forget to breathe

Thank you Ellie

For the heart song you give to me

 Introducing Eloise Grace Winter, 12 years of age, princess of Moses........

For my River.

For you
From whom such sweet sweetness flows
For you
To whom our faces irresistibly follow as sunflowers to the sun
For you
Always you

Flow not into the sea just yet. For there is more.
Much more. Here and to come.
To soothe. To soften. To see.

For you

Always you

Waiting. In hope. Look, the buds on our planted trees wait for Spring.

And we for you.
Always you.
For you. For you. For you.

Applerazzi in the new apple orchard

Too wet to work. So fun and games with water. In the video below the applerazzi chase River past the waterfalls to the new apple orchard. Its another rainy rainy day. Building work stopped. Tree planting in breaks between showers. Lounge converted into a temporary seed shed. Love it.

Got to give a big shout out to an old friend who facebooked us last night. Becky Crow, now Gooden. Check out the stunning jewelery pieces she designs and makes in Brighton. Outstandingly beautiful.

Memphis

Back on Line by River

After Christmas, we lost a few comforts...

First we lost the use of our little lounge.  A stream opened up in the lounge which meant that our wet floor was only safe for wellie boots, rain coats and salamanders.  Our house is tiny.  Memphis and I don’t even have our own room.  And yes, for all of those of you wondering, that is a little inconvenient.  Some things which ought to be spontaneous have to be scheduled, actually that does have its rewards...  But I digress.  Lack of use of the lounge meant that everything; two futon mattresses, several rugs, hoards of cushions and alot of firewood had to be moved upstairs to our already small sleeping area.  Moses got two new cushions for his bit of the floor, he is well chuffed.   Memphis and I have had the single futon on the end of our bed.  We now sleep with the weight of it pressing down on our front ankles at night (good stretching).  Effie Starlight and Falcon Bear promptly took the new cushion arrangement and lack of lounge as a sign that all family matters were now to occur on Mummy and Daddy’s bed.  Napping, reading, interneting, playing cards, and yes, eating. This is normally sacrilegious, absolutely categorically no nibbling children on the bed.  Yet for two weeks now, there they have been.

Secondly we lost the use of water. Our pipes are a serious nightmare to dig in.  Memphis and Filipe did a great job where they could, but for quite alot of the 300 metres from the bore hole to the house, the pipes are sitting on hard bedrock.  So at some point we may have to bite the bullet and hire a man with a large obnoxious sounding tool to dig them in.   You can’t seem to hire a tool without a man in these parts, but I like that it’s more, human.   However, until the pipes are dug in we have to tolerate a bit of frozen pipes now and again.  The only flowing water through the house is the little stream in the lounge, great for Moses, not so great for us.  And it was surprisingly sweet and tender for Memphis and I as we had to go down to the river to fetch water to boil for drinking.  We set up little buckets for the children to wash.   And with that job done we concentrated on simply keeping the house warm and relatively dry.  The whole time we were doing this we felt like Mama and Papa birds our only concern keeping the little chicks warm and dry, watered and fed and yes, entertained.  They won’t be little chicks for much longer; neither will they think our bed is the best place in the world to be.  I know I will miss that, I can already see the shift happening in my Joshie.  It’s don’t blink time.

Thirdly we lost the use of the internet and our telephone, due to some falling tree in forest breaking line action.  Not such a bad thing you might think.  But where we are its not so good.  The internet has been a real blessing to us, more so than when we lived in London.  We have been able to keep up with friends, and find out what is happening in the world.  It has been really wonderful watching the children maintain their relationships with friends and family even more so than when we lived in London.  Interesting, more connection over more distance.  So the loss of the internet and phone, equalled Winters six together.  It also meant having to take a 15 minute walk through the hills in the snow (loss of car) to give someone a message.  It was well cool to take the time to spend 45min to give a message which on the phone would normally take 3.  Loved it.

Fourthly we lost our electricity.  Basically it was going on and off so much that we decided forget it.  Not normally a big loss for me, since I am not a big fan of the stuff and enjoy being cut off from it.  Childhood in the tropics.  Further it seems right to be awake outside when it’s light and asleep when it’s dark.  But for a few nights, a bumble around in the dark, dredging up candles was called for and suddenly our little bunker was turned into a dolls house size cathedral.

Fifth I lost my wellie boots, slate and thin rubber equals big hole.  My wellie boots are a major loss they mean 1. I have to stay inside since it has been so wet (monsoon wet) but cold.  Walking the land in any other shoe is impossible and I just don't do slate barefoot, not that tough yet.  2. It means being inside virtually all the time and that is just unheard of in my life.  3.  It means being INSIDE I tell you and if indoors for too long I start to pace, internally and before long verbally and after that physically, bad bad news.  Yet, surprisingly there have been rewards.  Being indoors meant several days thinking of planning the work in the landscape without the disturbance of seeing it.  It meant seeing it in my mind’s eye and drawing it, writing it, listing it, planning.  It also meant that as soon as the rain stopped yesterday I went out and paced out over one third of the land and put in my stakes where trees and shrubs will be going next month.  It was great, every idea or thought that I’d had, looks like it might actually work out in the physical space and I don’t know that would have happened if I had been trying to clarify my thoughts outside as I usually do.

Often I have heard people talking about basic living like it is something to run away from, run to sophistication and everything at the touch of a button.  Over the years I became more and more unsure of this.  When we came here our time in the motorhome was fairly basic.  Yet we managed to find space for Michelle when she needed to kip.  Our home is tiny yet we seemed able to do without a room with no real suffering and with more opportunities for intimacy.  Loss of phone and internet meant more time talking about things together and strangely more time talking about the people we love and feeling close to them.  Things I would never say normally have been said and heard by my children and Memphis.

I just realised that it has been two weeks since I left the land.  I had opportunity to go with Memphis this afternoon but have decided to stay here instead.  I am back on line I guess and the time away has given me some things to think about.  But two weeks, I never even noticed the time fly.

This morning I went up to the houses and looked at them, these two small by most people’s standards, but too us now huge houses.  Separate bedrooms!   Yes that would be more convenient.  But I won’t be able to wake up and hear Joshy's deep breathing and Ellie's little chats with her friends in her sleep.  Ellie tells me she likes it when she gets up before us and sees Memphis and I sleeping, now that is something that only this house and this experience could give us.  There will be no river running through the house for Moses to drink from.  There won’t be all of us together in the same space doing our own things.  I started to feel sad.  I know the houses will be good, we hope to get older and might not be so up to the present shenanigans of our adventure.

Those houses have always felt like my home and I am looking forward to experiencing them but I know something that this little house is giving us will be a story in the past. I really hope we never forget or ignore this most precious present.  We still have things in a garage in Oleiros and I am sure it will be like Christmas day unwrapping our things, but I can’t really remember what they are and am not sure we need any of those things now.  I spoke to my Mum today and it was such a joy to talk to her and be Vonnie the daughter again. Some things are so worth the connection into the industrial complex.

The car is working again, the roads are clear, internet and phones are connected (thanks electric man i know it is miserable and wet) the electricity is unfaltering, the rain has just stopped and hark, I can’t hear the stream trickling through the lounge.  Soon the weather will truly brighten and we will be back to building.  But now that we are back on line I find myself asking what is it that we need?

It is surprising this completeness, I was afraid to make this jump and sometimes it is still frightening to not see another soul for days on end.  I thought when we begun that there would be more hardship and suffering.  More loneliness and isolation.  Yes there have been some tough days and even today when I found myself hauling the heavy compost bins out I did wonder “indoor, water toilets”...but no, my trees need this good stuff.  No water toilets and no TV, those two we definitely don’t need.  Speaking of TV, I watched a show of a TV series called "No Going Back", and thought the name meant people who sold it all and couldn’t go back no matter even if they wanted too.   But sitting on this side of the show I now think it meant no going back because they didn’t want to, the adventure is just, worth it.

Simple living has its rewards.  Slowed down time to do your life and to love your loves.  Are these our higher needs or our basic ones?  I can’t remember, an LSE education down the water toilet I guess,  but there is one thing I do now know through experience, this basic life gives a great deal.   One day we will plant trees where those stakes are.  Will they grow well?  I don’t know but I sure hope so.  Will we grow well here? I reckon so because there really is no going back to the life we once lived, no matter how good it was and sometimes it was very nice, but I’ll take this any day.  Our life has been pared down to the elements that please us the most, fire water earth, stone, food, air, work, rest, music, a few people, love and of course, goes without saying really, plants.

Perhaps all the times of human beings are uncertain.  But these are uncertain times, many of us feel the threat of a faceless predator, or perhaps as the Matrix best put it, the threat of the 'machine', detached from the human conscience and the public guidance of protest and tolerance.  These are not the times to dither, if there is something you really feel will enrich your life and the lives of those you love, do it.   Sometimes you will lose but when you win at it, the feeling is as our American friends say, awesome and it sure beats the hell out of dithering.

I think I will now go and try to set us up a lounge for the evening.  I now know we don’t need it but it would still be nice.  And if the little stream through the lounge comes back?  Well, there is always the bed (and the little one said...), roll over.

Tchau

River