Xisto Slate Floors and Bye Bye Lovely Builders

Video blog of the final, yes final, fortnight of professional restoration work on our Xisto stone houses here at Moses. The builders left yesterday. Von and I are immensely grateful for them, especially for all that they taught us in the process. But now they're gone and we have the house to ourselves once again. 3 weeks til my Mum and Dad arrive and still a fair bit left to go before the house will be ready to receive them. Deep breath...

Dry stone walling begins

Today summer feels like it has truly arrived. Bright blue hot hot Sunday. The mountainside and pathways are bursting with yellow and blue flowers and the wild white rock roses are ready to put on their impressive annual display.Just chilling out after a scrumptious Sunday lunch, I thought I'd upload some vids from the last fortnight. The professional bit of the works on the house is drawing to a close. Another fortnight maybe at tops. All the windows are in, just waiting on the doors.

Tiles are on in all the bathrooms and kitchen. Supporting walls are all built and rendered and tiled where required. Wooden rough cut pine tree boards are nailed in to the apex of the gable end. Just waiting for the 100 sq metres of natural cut multi coloured slates to arrive and we can lay the remaining  floors. And waiting for all the sinks and taps to arrive so we can call in the local stone merchant to measure up for the granite worktops.

Built a concrete fossa (water tank in the photo) to house any grey water from the house not usable on the land - for example from the soak sink in the kitchen for when we'll need to wash out the salt from the eating olives and a second drain from the washing machine if we ever need to wash anything in bleach.

We spent most of last week clearing the kitchen terrace from all the rubble and wood mounded there and to make space to begin what we thought would be the long process of restoring the dry stone terrace walls. In fact after just 2 days with the lovely old stone mason João, we've built over half already (he tells why he likes dry stone walling in the video below).

So in a fortnight, the builders will hopefully leave and we will be able to put the finishing touches to the shell, thus beginning the lifelong task and joy of creating; for me that will start with converting the old floorboards from the house into beds, cupboards, book shelves, shutters as well as a pergola on the kitchen terrace. River will continue to be besotted by all things gardening, but her inside time will probably become more focussed on mosaics and fabrics. All lovely stuff. But that is all to come.

Right now we're enjoying the final phases of the restoration work and sensing the pleasure that awaits us when its all done and dusted ready to move in. In the meantime teaching is going well, kids are still top of their classes at school and River has staked more trees on the road (a tractor video tour below if you fancy it) and covered the potato field in more donkey manure and pine needle mulch.

I have a sneaky sensation that River might be at this very moment suggesting that perhaps this afternoon "we" could nip into the forest and cut some Mimosa trees to make the dozens of pea stakes she will need shortly.

"We could dear. Good idea. I'll be there in just a tick."

Oh by the way, Chris Stewart's Driving Over Lemons series, is a must if you've not already read them. Lovely tales from his family's adventure of a remote mountainside rural Spanish life.





Here's the link to the blog showing a video of the the day we first started back in July 2008 with the arrival of the diggers, Demolition City!

Renovation Update

Our builders return, the sun comes out and renovation work starts up again in earnest, while Vonnie continues to open up more holes and plant more trees along the road and sow more seeds in the lounge. Snow still on mountain tops of Serra da Estrella here in the photo in the distance.

Coming to the end of term so kids and I are a bit whacked, as is River, as you can imagine, after planting for so long. We are all looking forward to the Easter hols next week in which we will have Von's mum Arlene over for a fortnight as well as John and Caroline Purday and their girls for an extended weekend.

Some videos below on the restoration update but first one is an inside view of our compost heap. Making your own soil, or at the very least improving and caring for what you've already got, feels like one of those things that is going to become increasingly important for humanity. Can't explain that. Just feel it.

I will write something more substantive over Easter. My heads spinning a bit right now with all that's going on here. It's full on, and of course it's all delicious.

Peace and all good things

Memphis

Mammoth Tasks…Small Victories. By River.

When I started putting those stones in the wall I didn’t know if I could do it.  I didn’t know I could finish it. Our true summer began with the filling of the first holes in the walls of what will be our bedroom.  I remember the day clearly, utterly terrified that I would do something wrong and the house might fall over instantly.  But it didn’t and it hasn’t and I don’t think it will.  I think our work is there to stay for sometime.  But it is within the framework of building this house that our summer began and expended itself into our autumn and soon to be our winter.

Within that summer we have spent precious wonderful time with family, friends and strangers.  Sally and Papops, my Mum, Sister and Tia Avril, Uncle Andrew or Uncle Manly as he has been renamed,  shanti B,  Paula and Alfie and lots and lots of new friends and people we may never see again.  It has been one action packed summer a glorious summer and a gentle Autumn. 

When we finished the main structure of the stone walls I knew something more had to be done.  The room we built lacked the charm of the little stones characteristic of stone houses in this region.  For hours each day I sat looking at the beautiful stone work of our present little shelter – the house actually called Moses (our houses  midway up the land are actually called Cabeço meaning head like the head or source of a spring), anyway I sat and stared at these walls and one day knew what to do.  I would have to put the small stones in after the main structure was up. That way we could get the roofs on in time for the winter rains.

When the big stone work ended and most of the roof structure of our bedroom was in order I went up the hill to start on the face of little stones, I started as tentatively as the first stone I put in the house, I started with a little corner. The next day Senhor João the eldest stonemason, came and asked me who was doing this work.  Prepared to hear this is terrible and shrink off down the hill to go to my duvet,  I tentatively replied,  I did.  He grinned tapped me on the shoulder and said “this is the way.  The old way it takes a long time and no one has or wants to do it this way but this is the old way”.  An even wider grin appeared on his face as he said “one year to finish the small stone work on both houses”. 

At that moment, my eyes panned out. I looked at the house and thought I don’t even know if I can finish this wall let alone the whole house.  But set up the scaffolding I did with the help of my Memphis and I started with no instruction, no idea and no capacity to think of the whole wall let alone the whole upper floor.  Builders came, built the childrens house, roofs went up, tiles were put on, school started, ill health and good health has come, sun, rain, fog, and green grass grew from the terraces.  The grape harvest brought in.  The river got its voice back and the olives started to swell.  Strawberry fruit tree fruits started glowing jewel like, tantalising out of reach.  The school term started for Josh and Ellie, and I lost me Memphis to the little kids of Oleiros, Orvalho and Estreito, his days changed to singing nursery rhymes and dealing with naughty impish behaviour and still I continued on these walls.

At the beginning I felt sick to death of it.  Thinking I would do this and it would be pointless, it wouldn’t look the same or the stones will fall out instantly or I might dislodge something important.  But with every single stone my confidence grew until I was doing it without thought.  Without thought or instruction I have learnt a great deal about stone. The little stones have taught me about their quality, colour, how they will open up or whether they will crumble.  Where the fractures are and how each quality of stone is best bonded to the clay.  Which colours glow more in the night and wet and which stones will stand defiantly clear in colour in the face of the sometimes scalding Portuguese sun.  They taught me to stack them just like the big stones for the most stable support so that actually I was building mini walls within the bigger walls which we’d put together earlier on in the summer.

Every day for the few weeks Senhor João was here, he would come and shake his stone hammer at me and say “don’t think about the time, go to the wall”.  If he saw me deflatedly looking out over the horizon he would come and say “Maria, go to the wall”.  The truth is he was right it was the only instruction I needed.  Go to it, keep doing it and you will learn the way. Very yogic, Zen even.

Mario gave me my next lesson when one day I exasperatedly threw a stone over the terrace wall.  “What’s wrong Maria?” he asked.  Oh this black stone keeps falling apart.  “There are many types of black stone” he said dismissively as he walked away. And with a big Mosey sigh off I went to look for these elusive black stones and I found them.  I even learnt how to put in the crumbly stone letting it crumble or keep form depending on what I wanted.  From that experience I learnt that there isn’t just one way in the universal sense, but that each stone has its own way. 

Paulo taught me to look after myself, make sure I had a secure, safe and comfortable work place. Filipe has taught me to grin, jiggle to the accordion (yes I confess I have jiggled to the accordion on top of the scaffolding from time to time).  And Eugenia has taught me I must eat and rest on Sunday.

I knew I was on to a winner when Mister Farinha in his usual stern manner, said incredulously and with a dash of admiration, not too much mind you, “How many stones have you put in that wall?” I learnt my style was more different perhaps more feminine as female visitors would come over and gaze at the quartz or powder blue soft stone, while the men nodded at the hard black flint.  Hard because while it may take 10 minutes to break up a huge soft stone it takes over 30 mins to break a brick sized piece of the hard flint. I also learnt not to break up flint with a stone hammer on dry grass or twigs.  Very important lesson when living in a forest.

I am so grateful to João Antunes for teaching us this way it is slower but nothing moves not one stone can be easily removed and put back the walls are so solid, centered and strong like so many of our Portuguese neighbours.

With each small victory of stone put in that house I realised the mammoth nature of the task.  But last week I finished the small stonework of the bedroom.  I finished it and even up to the last stone I didn’t know I could finish it.  Perched on top of the highest corner wall of the house I hammered in the last hard black stones and when it was finished, I stepped back and my eyes panned out and realised it was complete.  I had done it.  The walls of small victories were over.

So much has gone into those stones, joy, anger, frustration, fun, laughter, disappointment, tension, apprehension, divine certainty, forgiveness, peace and above all love.

My eyes panned out further afield and I saw once again as new, all that we would be honoured to do in this land and once more I saw the mammoth task.  But I now know in a calm, patient and reflective way that it is possible perhaps even probable, since each task, whether it is picking Olives, or collecting seeds or planting trees or building walls or collecting firewood, each mammoth task is made up of a number or small, sometimes tiny, victories.  These victories are happening all the time until they come together and something apparently impossible has taken place.

I have finished what seemed like a mammoth task and at last I feel I can exhale, let go, kick back and know that whatever else we have to do, somehow we, whether that we be made up of Memphis and me plus the kids or with our neighbour Joao, Filipe, Jorge and Eugenia or with builders, or guests or friends, we will do what we can and we can do quite a lot when all those little victories have been added together.  We will, under the grace of the Infinite, find a way to do it and that is no small victory.

Thank you Memphis for encouraging me and stroking my back and telling everyone how beautiful it is that I was doing this. I really really needed that.

Paz e amor

River

P.S.  As I stood and looked at the jeweled walls, all of 10 minutes after finishing, my favourite João came and said “It’s beautiful Maria, now you can start the filling in the old walls of the house!”

I guess there is no rest for the wicked!

Tree hugging cooks and a tractor

At some point in each of the decades of our lives we evaluate who on earth we think we are. For some I am sure this remains fairly constant in some shape or form. But for others, the answers we come up with vary with the seasons. River and I are now well into our thirties and have made a variety of decisions that have led us here into the heart of the Portuguese interior to forge out a brand new rural existence that inevitably is taking us down a path far less ordinary, fabulously more romantic and unimaginably abundant.

This week we are contemplating our life as tree hugging cooks.

We are restoring old stone houses into homes with huge hearths, cultivating a terraced mountainside and preparing to plant a whole new forest, tree by beautiful tree, that will one day become a fittingly grand setting for the life of 2 old romantic, tree hugging, flower loving, yoga practising, fruit and veggie planting, butter and cream using cooks.

It's all imaginary really. All of it. Surely it's our imaginations that power the direction of our lives. To dream. To explore the possibilities. To pursue it all with love and kindness. Right now we are living in the midst of an enormous sprawling Pine and Eucalyptus forest. One day, probably when we are in our 70s, we will be living in the heart of a fairytale wood in the middle of that forest. Hugging trees. Wandering through herb scented woodland paths. Picking home cultivated nuts, berries, fruits and an assortment of harvests. Then cooking to music, dining under grape vines, washing it down with glasses of our own precious wine. Gazing at stars. Thanking the Lord for all of it, with every breath we make.

But we are not there yet. We are here. Yet here is still a pretty lovely place.

Take a look.

Houses built of flour

So here's an interesting thing. Close on a hundred years ago, a young man called Senhor Farinha, built a beautiful house out of stone and clay and wood, on a piece of land called Moses in the meandering valleys of central Portugal below a wee village called Amieira. He raised his family, grew all kinds of veggies and flowers and trees on terraces hand sculpted out of the mountain side. Sixty odd years ago he built another house, just above his first house, for guests and friends, we think with his brother, another Sr Farinha.

One of his daughters married the boy next door (he's actually the guy in the middle of the photo of the 3 paunches), where they still live to this day. After her father passed away 20 years ago, that daughter eventually decided to sell the family home and 2 years ago a young English family from London came and saw and fell in love with the house and the land and the people and moved into the village to start a new life.

After a year and half of dreaming and imagining and planning, this little English family began the process of lovingly restoring what Sr Farinha had first created. They had no idea what they were doing really but were convinced that in the process they would learn. With some help from their neighbour João and his sons Filipe and George, they raised the walls in stone and clay, cut down a few trees and made an old time wooden structure for a roof. Just 2 weeks ago a young man also called João, came to help restore the guest house. He was a professional with a team of lovely stone masons. And by coincidence his name, and that of his brother Paulo also on the team, is Farinha.

Yesterday, a mountain of gorgeous wooden pine beams and floorboards for the roofs arrived from a sawmill in the nearby town of Sertã, cut to size and delivered by another lovely young man who, oddly enough is also called João Farinha.

Farinha in Portuguese means Flour. Our houses here in the land of Moses were built, are being restored and probably will be added to some more, with the help of a lot of flour.

Well I thought it was an interesting story.

Bought a new video camera this week. Better quality than the last few months, although better quality means bigger file size, so might need to wait a wee longer for them to load up. Hope it's worth it.

Monkeys dancing in the forest. A rare glimpse.

Another awesome week at work folks. Lots of fun. especially as we are beginning to move into a period of working with wood rather than stone and clay. Beams for the roof. Pillars for the verandas. And then on to the floors. A couple of videos this week. A long interview with me and Vonnie at the end. We're trying to record somehow how we're seeing and feeling things right now, for our benefit mainly. But hope you like. Especially the monkey one.

Andrew Brocklesby, a friend of mine back from university days, is staying with us at the moment. More hands. More stones carried. More legs to bear the weight of lugging 3 eleven metre beams down from the forest. And nice to have him here too. London's beginning to drop away from his shoulders. Bless.

Bought two rabbits with the kids today. Computer or playstation was not touched all day. Biscuit and Flopsy are already contributing nicely to the compost pile. Little shitters.

Tommorrow we're back to the work of love that is our house. Can't wait. Ta ta.

Lime brace...

Treecutters...

Monkey!!!!

Saturday morning reflections on the work...

There's more to come

Hey Peeps

Another few videos and pictures to show you all below. We've been rattling along nicely here with the renovations still loving it. Tops. And to add to the joy of our summer Vonnie's aunt Avril, mummy Arlene and baby sister Antoinette came to stay.

I'll let the kids and Vonnie tell you all about it except to say we had a most lovely and energising time. Arlene looking after us all,

picking fresh veggies and herbs everyday and cooking up a storm. Avril got stuck in with helping build the house and fell in love with our clay and Antoinette bought about a Facebook revolution for the kids and enjoyed her time playing self build pioneer with fashion to boot.

Through it all, the title of this blog. We are so utterly thankful for everyday here, it's sometimes hard to contain it. But when we stop, reflect on what we're doing, what we've done in the day, what we've managed to achieve since we arrived in Portugal, it's simply so inspiring. And yet there's something else. Always playing in the background is the drum beats, the music of what's to come.

Now is good. Very good. But the best bit is we know that it's only going to get better. There's more of what we're already been enjoying to come. More opportunities to create, to sculpt, to manifest. More ideas. More building. More planting. More fruit. More flowers. More shade. More parties. More friends. More understanding. More revleations. More of each other. More and more and more. There's more to come. Believe.

Another machine arrives. The first for the house. It's big...

Giant Xisto stone lintels arrive. Oh my days, heavy?...

First stone hoisted into position...

Stone henge style rolling stones...

Timber!!!...

Wind in our Sails, by Memphis and River

I am feeling so full to bits, I could burst. We've started buiding our house. It's been a long long road to get here, but we got there, Thanks Be, and we've set sail. 4 weeks ago in fact. The wind is well and truly behind us and filling our sails, stretched as it were, to their limit for the purpose for which they were made. The ship we're on has set sail from the harbour and is already on the open waves. At a good few knots I'd say from the breeze in our faces. Yet funnily enough, we don't really know where we going. We just know its not the time to do anything else, to take any other diversion along the way. Just let the wind propel us forward for as long as it chooses to blow.

So much so in fact I haven't even had the time to post the blog that would have said I am now a fisherman. Proof. That's a carp I caught with Josh one night and ate for our tea.

I can't properly describe this feeling at the moment, so this blog entry is simply a video one, where you can all see and hear for yourselves what it is like for us here.

The clips below are just snapshots into minutes of our thoroughly enjoyable days. I hope you'll get the picture. But before you do, River is over my shoulder wanting to say a few words. Here you go babe...

Hello there.

We've had such an amazing time these last four weeks. Gratitude, gratitude, gratitude is the wind blowing for me right now, here are a few of my high and low winds...

High winds... The crew that I am working with and all they mean to me. Memphis, my beloved in every way. Joshie, my strong young prince working so hard and being indispensible to Joao and Filipe on the only day we couldn't work with them. Ellie, reminding us that we are loved by baking a cake for us everyday. Joao, Filipe and Eugenia our neighbours, friends and teachers yet again. And the infamous Moses taking a nap in the clay mix bath at any opportunity!

Low winds... about the crew, absolutely none. But I do miss Slinky sometimes.

High Winds...I acutally, with my own two hands, built a substantial proportion of those walls!!!!!

Low winds...anytime I wasn't working on the house, it is an obsession. Am lovin it.

High Winds...Walking around the land with my wheelbarrow and crowbar climbing slopes and kicking down my favourte stones, or digging them out of the ground or even hacking a few out of the hillside. Then pushing said wheelbarrow uphill full of treasure. Yes me hearties, good stuff. Then seing Joao expertly put those stones in the wall, amazing.

Low winds...Bringing back said stones one day, and falling through the floor. Not as bad as it sounds, had already offloaded stones and only my right leg went through the floor. They say your life flashes before you but not with me. Too slow. One minute I was up, next down on my ass looking confused. What happened? Well funny.

High Wind...Michelley bringing us thousands of tiles. Great birthday present. Thanks hon.

Low wind... knowing I'm going to have to take all dem tiles down a steep rocky slope in a wheelbarrow!

High wind...buns of steel.

Low wind...the thighs are growing. Memphis says that's apprently a high wind!

High wind...Waking up one sunny but still cool morning climbing out of "the hole", as our neghbours fondly call our present little hideaway and putting on the corner stones with my Memphis, just me and he.

Low winds...None whatsoever. Joao said it was "tudo bem". All well.

4 weeks ago there were no walls there. Today they are up. Amazing. Awesome. Well happy.

Paz e amor

River

The Oscar for best supporting wall goes to...

Michelle's Terracotta Army...

Bouncey bouncey at the Oleiros Feira do Pinhal...

The walls are up. Praise be...

That's all folks!

GLASTONBURY FESTIVAL….YEAH, WOOOOO! By Von

This is a long one guys as I could not take many photos of this time in our lives and I just don´t want to forget it.

Those of you who have known me in the last five years would not have known that it has been a personal little inscription on my bucket list to go to Glastonbury festival. Well you might think, `that’s not hard to arrange Von, buy a ticket and go’. But for me not so.

Not too long off the boat from Barbados, I first heard of the festival at the tender age of 18 sitting in a room in London watching in consternation as this older girl hauled on her metallic purple Doctor Martin boots and pack an unimaginable assortment of summer, winter, dry and wet clothes as she set off for the festival. Laden down, hot and sweaty but grinning from ear to ear off she went. “Maybe next year, eh Von.” Yes I thought, maybe next year but not with you (another story).

The following year I was asked by my soon to be at the time ex-boyfriend (yes Josh and Ellie, I had a life before daddy), “fancy going to Glastonbury this year with me Von?”, his eyes shifting from my face to the floor. “Yes” I thought, “would like to go, but not with you” and a few days after, an ex he became. Few years later, no can’t go this year pregnant, next year, broke and knackered next year, uh pregnant, and so on and so forth. Every time the timing or the something just wasn’t right and then there were jobs and other jobs and businesses and selling businesses and touring Europe and buying ruins and then finally, when I least expected and when I certainly had thought “oh well, don’t think will be doing that”, along came the right time and the right people.

One sunny afternoon in Lisbon Merle looked at me and said in that crisp musical voice, “Von, do you think you might like to go to a festival and help us this year?” “Yeah sure Merle. I have never been to a festival, I would like that.” Ian’s head snapped around, “What, you have never been to a festival?” “Uh! No.”, and once again I felt 18 and just off the boat. “Well,” said Merle smiling sweetly, “How about Glastonbury?”. Ian at this point sitting forward looked at Merle and me and laughed loudly, quite loudly in fact, “ Straight in there, in the belly of the beast, better think about that, would be great, but it’s the belly of the beast.” ‘Belly of the beast?’, I thought, ‘sounds perfect’. (The guy in the photo here who put in our new telephone line had one of those too by the way!)

How did I know this was the right time and these were the right people? In the same way one truly knows anything. 1. A little help from synchronicity (a theme that kept coming up in conversations at the festival). The night before I dreamt that someone was going to ask me if I wanted to do something and I said yes. The next afternoon Merle was the first person to ask and I said yes. At the time of saying yes I didn’t know that her next sentence was going to tick off a long standing date with myself.

2. I had been experiencing something new on the land. The more I worked on the land the more energy I seemed to have. Yeah physical tiredness would come but another kind of life enriching substance was making itself known and I needed to expend it somewhere else. I think Andy started feeling it first and then his teaching kids English came up. So the opportunity to go to the Festival and work was perfect. It also meant that I could be there before and after the festival, a marvellous opportunity to see the breadth of the festival and not just its length at the weekend. And what work, not cleaning toilets or picking up rubbish but working with the most beautiful simple and elegant shelter, the tipi. Fab! Another date with self, ticked.

3. I was going to be going with Ian and Merle and to avoid the risk of being gushing and school girly, we are big fans. I think I would have gone and cleaned toilets if they had asked me but tipis, yes classy Glastonbury, the only way to go.

So after planting my last sunflower (lost count of how many planted this year), off my Memphis took me to Porto airport. It’s funny how you prepare for something, and you talk about something and you decide something and then when that something is actually happening, you think, shit what am I doing? Walking around the airport with my Memphis it started to sink in that we would be separated for almost three weeks, something that hadn’t happened for a while and I didn’t feel quite so brave anymore. The moment he left the airport I stood in the checking-in queue shamefully dragging Eloise’s pink suitcase (long story) and even more shamefully, crying (yes Michelle I cried in PUBLIC), not sure Glastonbury sounded like such a good idea, belly of the beast, being away from the land, from the kids at the end of term, from Andy, going to be with All Those People, the rain, the mud, the toilets, the the the. But I hate going back on a decision made so, determined to have a good time, checked my bag and boarded the plane.

Merle met me that night at Bristol airport to and while driving back to their home another thing sunk in. I was in England, I am a bit slow, in the summer. England the green and pleasant land. So, before the fun of the festival started I had a few beautiful days walking in the fields and hills of England with (what could be better?), with Ian and Merle’s fabulous dog at my side: Good-Times Perry. Within a couple of days of arriving at their lovely home and seeing Ian, Anna, Eve, Ollie and finally the fabulous Uncle Roger again, I knew this part of my trip was going to be great. New times with new friends, with only one reoccurring shadow being that my old friend Memphis (that’s Andy for those who are new to this blog) was back home in Portugal and not with me.

I had some much appreciated time to warm up to the tipis and get too know them. The morning after getting there Merle and I set off in her enormous British Racing Green Bedford truck, ‘Freddie’, to take down tipis and their hybrid of a yurt the humbly named ‘Squirt’. Driving in that Bedford with that amazing woman, listening to music, staring out the window watching the English countryside roll by. Aah, delicious. I grin even now just thinking about it. Crawling around on in a cool green field taking tipis apart onloading, offloading, onloading, I couldn’t fail to miss the irony that I spent all those years studying and this was the kind of work I most enjoy, physical work. And then it was time to set off for the big one. Glastonbury.

So how does one sum up the biggest party in Britain? Well you can’t. It was brilliant! I loved it! I loved the Hummingbird Crew which actually felt like a family. Despite all the work and time pressures there was always time to stop and have a conversation with anyone who wanted to come by and have a conversation. Despite the few episodes of heavy rain, the sun shone and was appreciated as only the British public can do. Despite the heavy aggressive force of army fighters flying low overhead and police dogs and heavy security there was the softness of the hippees in the tipifield, who at the end of the festival left virtually no rubbish, planted a garden, drank loads of tea and appeared to spend a lot of time talking about how to make the world a better, peaceful more loving place.

Despite the crush of soo many people there were many moments of kind and intimate conversations with a few people or sightings of young lovers cuddling or sleeping it off under the trees or other brief but unforgettable experiences with completely strangers: the young black woman on her way to see the Prodigy; the young guy sitting miserably in the ditch; the two older English women that danced with me to Steel Pulse; the ZZ top look alike who liked jazz; the young Eastender dressed from head to toe in shocking pink, having breakfast and worried about her first time out without her toddler; the crazy dude who asked a 1,000 people if they were awake (only one out of the 1000 said yes!); the young teenager who said what he wanted most in life was to one day be a Father.

Despite the poor music line up on the main stages there were wonderfully sincere generous performances in the smaller tents. To counter the commercialism around the main stage there was the opportunity to experience the work of craftsman and artisans in the Greenfields. There was something for everyone, something that Britain does beautifully, an intricate balance of inclusion and exclusion defined by invisible boundaries but felt strongly all the same. Despite the hedonistic ‘I am just here to have a good time of the weekend’ there was the work with the crew and drinks and chats with all the other stressed out but still smiling 30,000 people who work to make the Glastonbury party happen. In contrast to the trash and chaos that would be left at the end, I was lucky to witness the green and verdant English fields before the weekend started, a reminder that the land would heal quickly helped on by the young people picking up rubbish at the end, working in return for their tickets.

My most memorable night would have to be the Saturday night Hummingbird gang outing (except Uncle Roger but we knew you were with us). It seemed that all night we would be walking against the current of the crowd, always a good sign. Ian, ahead in his Technicolor neon coat and bull hat, walked with Merle in her long black dress overlaid with neon pink velvet patterns, feet protectively clad in mountain boots, together we all cut a path through the masses heading in our own direction. Walking in the dark hedgerows, in the mud, with the people all around, and the security presence and sniffer dogs, we descended from the heights of the tipi fields into the valley of the belly of the beast. I felt us swimming against the current and the most unusual thing occurred, my heart opened to it. Opened to all of these people: all of us, here, doing what? Looking for what? Looking for more of what? I felt firstly a strange compassion for how lost we all are and secondly a total and complete joyous acceptance of all of it, the filth and the beauty, the isolation and the togetherness, the disappointment and the faithful hope. Right there in the thoroughfare for me the party began. I danced and walked and talked to strangers all night long.

In the wee hours of the morning I sat alone on the high hills and watched the sun and the mist rise over those beautiful tipis standing as centuries guarding the battlefields and could feel nothing other than gratitude. Thankful that life, with all its mess, could still be willing to provide me the opportunity to experience this trivial little point on my bucket list. We just never know how new threads will impact the tapestry of our lives. This thread will glow brightly for sometime. Thank you. I went to Glastonbury festival and I had a great time.

Totally prepared to be feeling completely exhausted after the British tour, I returned home feeling completely the opposite, full, full, full of energy and fully expecting a new season for us on the land. So, excited to see the kids and hear all about their amazing successes at school and of course… my Memphis… I arrived to find that after a civilised breakfast in dramatic Porto we would be taking a slow and rebalancing 2 day journey along the coast to home. My hubby really knows how to say welcome home, thanks hon.

In the silence of this place I turned 36 this week. I have been waiting to become 36 for a very long time. I remember my Mum and her friends when they were that age, powerful and energetic, beautiful women. I first met my friend Anna when she was 36 and over the years have watched her grow stronger and more beautiful every year. An ex-boyfriend of mine (yes kids that is the sum total before Dad) once said to me as we were breaking up “I wish I could see you at 36 you are going to be amazing.” I was 17 at the time and thought , “What?” But his comment clearly stayed with me and now here I am. I decided to spend my 36^th Birthday in complete contrast to my 35^th, I spent it quietly alone with my family on the land at Moses and I guess it is a sign that I am getting on but it was a reflective birthday, looking at the difficulties and disappointments of the last year and the healing, loving time we have had here so far. Sitting on our seeing seat looking on the violet to apricot sunset I made a wish and you know what, it came true like 5 days later.

On the 13^th of July early morning when the mist was giving up its moisture in the face of the sun here in Portugal, Memphis and River walked up the hill and decided it was time to rebuild our house. A year almost to the day since we first took off the roof and some internal stone walls, we felt the tide change in our attentions and knew it was time to start rebuilding. We had taken out all we wanted and tidied all we could and there was just nothing left to do. In silent trepidation we walked up the hill. I don’t know what Memphis was thinking but I was certainly thinking, ”We are about to build a house in stone and clay and we don’t have a clue. We are out of our depth, on our own but determined. Then grace came as I looked up to the sound of “Bom Dia” and there, waiting for us, actually waiting for us, was our well loved neighbours Joao and Filipe.

Over the last year we had talked to so many people about rebuilding this house and looked at so many different materials we could use, but eventually we came home to the simple materials of stone and clay which we have in abundance and the desire to work with someone who will have the patience to teach us and who is connected to the land in some way. In essence we’ve always wanted to link into our local community, made up as much out of a respect for the ancestors of our neighbours who carved this landscape before us and our neighbours themselves who remember their childhoods here and have welcomed us at each and every opportunity. Andy had spoken with Joao when I was away but we didn’t know if he would be able to help us. So to see them standing there waiting for us was an incredible feeling.

We have done our first week now and let me tell you it is heavy work. We are working all day in the sun and these guys born and bred on this land and accustomed to its heat, work at a pace. There has been no electrical machinery used so far and our tools consist of a hoe, a wheelbarrow, a few hammers and an endless supply of buckets. Add some clay and water and countless trips up and down the hill gathering clay and hand mixing it, driving around the land and scrambling up the slopes for the best stones ‘with pretty faces’ as Joao puts it and infilling with stones that came out of the house and you pretty much can get the picture of the simple by hand and foot nature in which we are rebuilding.

Once again we are experiencing that comradeship with our Portuguese neighbours, once again they have come to our rescue and they have been so relaxing to work with. Memphis is largely responsible for the inner face of the wall and Filipe, his brother George when he can come and I take turns making the mixes and working on the innerface, none of us would dare touch the outerface as that is clearly Joao’s territory, without a word being said. Andy and I have a private goal running to ensure Joao never has to step away from the wall to get clay or stones and so far we have managed well. The best bit though is that after a wonderful time before Christmas ofrebuilding one house together, we then had a great time gardening together for the first 6months of 2009 and now we get to rebuild another house with the kids.

I always wanted the kids to be there at the beginning of the laying of the first stone and to be involved in the process. Little did I know that they would be fanstastic invaluable members of the team. Josh has been amazing constantly lugging stones and not insubstantial buckets of clay back and forth between us. I am particularly grateful to Joshy for the first two days where I made most of the mixes myself and worked in the sun for the first time from sun up to sun down. At every mix Joshy was there saying well done Mummy, that’s great and such like. You’re a beautiful boy Josh. Our little princess Ellie has been in charge of the smaller stones, tiring work as we need thousands of them in a constant stream. She has been doing the most marvellous job hanging out washing, clearing up the kitchen after breakfast and everyday baking us something yummy to eat and share onsite with Joao and Filipe, the only way we can get them to stop and then only for 5 minutes.

I have thoroughly enjoyed being out there in the sun and the heat sweating and tugging and climbing and carrying and laughing and speaking Portuguese all day and being with the kids and Memphis. But this weekend I have been alone. My beautiful family have been away playing Cricket (a 150 year old 2 day cup match between Lisbon and Porto with my boys playing for Lisbon) and I have had my first weekend alone here ever, cleaning, gardening, reading and generally catching up with all that has happened this summer so far and then doing nothing. It is strange being alone after having such a full time, in England, in the village, and then at home. This weekend no phone calls have been made, no music played except for an hour of reggae, well it is Sunday after all and then a little writing, giving thanks I guess you could call that praise. Being alone on this land is deeply enriching. It is time to rest, to be in the solitude and the silence of this place. It is a time where no projection of personality is required and I can just be and watch and marvel at the miracle of it all and the Life who gives it so generously and abundantly.

I don’t know what next week brings but for this week past, yet again I find myself saying, Thank you we are finally rebuilding our house at the right time and with the people we hoped would teach us, our neighbours people in our community and I am loving it.

I am 36 years old now and for the first birthday ever I do feel, well, different.

P.S. I am not an enthusiastic blogger, in fact I am a little ashamed that I even bother to write a blog because sometimes when I read over it sounds like I am just saying look isn’t life wonderful for me. That is not why I am writing it. I write it because I can’t believe life. I don’t really understand how life works or even what is happening most of the time. Even with all this writing I still find myself here and say, “How did I get here?” I am not special. I have no special gifts or particular insight or brilliance and yet beautiful life is unfolding itself and I am a part of it. So if you want to change something in your life big or small I would say, think about what it is you want for sure, but then just take the next available step towards or on your path and be prepared to dance with life and let it take you down paths you hadn’t expected more than likely these new paths are heading in the same direction as the path you would have chosen.

Paz e amor

River

A few videos for you to see...

While Mummy was away...

River waits for her clay....

The clay arrives...

The work begins. On the way to being stonemasons...

Horses and nuclear waste monkey suits

Hello all. Been a while. No excuses except it's been well cold here at night and as our internet access is outside and we've been staying huddled together inside, no blogs. But today is different. It's Sunday morning and the sun is shining bright in a cloudless powder blue November sky with this as my view across the Amieira valley here at Bacelo. Sweet.

But before I update you on what's been going on here in The Shire, just took the following fly on the wall video of the kids 10 minutes ago. Every morning they are up before 6 off up the hill at 7.30 to catch the school bus at 7.50, have classes all day from 9 to 5, then get back at 6.30, do their homework, eat dinner, share the stories of their day and collapse exhausted in bed by 9. So on Sundays they can have a lie in. Bless their cotton socks. We are very proud of them. They are learning so much so quickly and are growing physically and emotionally as a result. Well done kids. Keep it up. You are stars.

Hello from the kids on a Sunday Morning



November has been pretty full on. Von and I have been working together Monday to Friday on restoring our first house down at Moses. We got all the easy stuff out of the way in the first 6 weeks - clearing the house, creating the internal wooden structures, laying our first roof, laying our first floor and rendering all the walls with lime. Now we are into the harder phase which will require outside expertise - electrics, plumbing (picture here is of Senhor Lucas installing the pumps and tubing into our new bore hole which is 300 metres up the hill from the house) hot water water system (thermodynamic panels from a company called ENat), hand crafted double glazing and pine staircases (from a lovely carpenter called Senhor Dias), railings for the internal veranda (an ironmonger in Oleiros) and a handmade wood burning stove (from Guillierm in Esteiro). All of which have been arranged and now we wait to see this last phase unfold while we lay more floors, finish the rendering build the kitchen and paint. So if all goes to plan over the next 4 weeks, we'll be able to move in for Christmas. Yaaaaay.

Anyway here's a couple of videos to update you on the work.

Nuclear waste factory monkey suit



Our first floor: slate dust topped



The weekends here in the last month have been quite hectic. We had a farewell party by the fire at Moses for Ian and his family as unfortunately Merle had to return early to Germany for the unexpected death of her mother there. Guys we hope you are all OK and your journey has not been too painful. Following weekend Shanti B and her great friend Emma from Ireland camped with us down at Moses. Emma taught us how to express the joy of life in just one phrase that we've been using every day since. WOW!!! I LOVE....(insert anything you like here - this place, that word, the bigness, fires, synchronicity, etc etc etc etc). Thanks Emma. You can come again anytime you want. (You too Shants of course, no invitation necessary.)

Last weekend we visited the National Horse Festival in Portugal's capital of horses - Galegã. It was a wonderful chance to experience another dimension of Portuguese culture. Horses and their devoted human companion admirers. The town has some exquisite architecture that we've seen elements of before but not on this scale. Streets and streets of gorgeous old buildings with hundreds of horse stables inside courtyards hidden behind the street frontage of the houses. And in the centre of the town a magnificent corral where all the horses were on show, either jumping or just trotting around the circumference. Kids, adults, intrepid horse enthusiasts the lot of them. Splendid. We'll be going again next year. Definitely. On Saturday night we stayed in Lisbon again so we wouldn't have too far to travel on Sunday for Josh's last cricket game of the year, played, of course, in delightful sunshine all day with the usual blend of multicultural languages from India, Pakistan, South Africa, England and Portugal ringing in our ears. Von has a tale to tell of that day coming soon....

One final thing to mention is that after 6 weeks of being pretty cold at night we finally have had this wood burning stove installed in our room at Bacelo. And what a difference it's made. Although the days are still sunny and hot, the evenings have been bitter when the wind blows. So thank you to "Tom and Jerry" for buying and fitting this stove for us. Toasty.