Last year, Miguel (our neighbor with the sheep) asked if he could use the lower half of our field to plant some potatoes. We said, "Sure!" We don't use it, and all our neighbors give us of their bounty. It seems the very least we can do. So, in spring and summer, on separate trips (due to our ailing, aged dog who needed tending at home), we saw ruffled rows of green leaves in what formerly had been a weed patch. Other neighbors told us the woman who lived here before us grew enormous tomatoes in that field. Still, imagine our surprise when the field yielded potatoes like this!
About two weeks ago, we looked out our galeria window and saw Antonio, Maria Elena, and Miguel, all working together to harvest the potatoes.
Antonio was using his tractor. (Neighbors help each other out here; we often see Miguel at Antonio's farm, helping to plant or harvest, depending on the season.) Miguel is on flatbed in the picture below. And the last picture shows what the eventual harvest looked like. All this from such a small field. They obviously know what they are doing. When they saw us watching, Miguel hopped down and loaded up a sack of giant potatoes for us, and we've been eating them ever since.
This coming week-end will be the grape harvest, or
vendimia, for our village. The week-end varies from village to village, depending on a variety of factors. (Our English friends in Canabal have been growing grapes, and they harvested theirs a week ago.) As with the potatoes, friends and neighbors help each other out. All of them will make their own wine and store it in vats in their
bodegas.
What starts out looking like this:
Ends up looking like this:
The first time Miguel brought us a two-liter coke bottle filled to the brim, we thanked him, but after he left, we wondered how to ever tell him that we don't drink Coca Cola? Then we noticed: that coke looked a little purplish. We unscrewed the cap, and, sure enough, it was a generous helping of his home-made wine. The home-made wine here is really "table wine". It's a bit on the tart side, but tasty enough, and it has a very low alchohol content, probably around 6% or 7% -- low enough that locals drink a hearty portion with their lunch or dinner or afternoon
meriendas (snacks).
On another note, this trip we've been blessed with wonderful, sunny weather. On most trips in spring or fall, it rains at least once a day, all the colors glistening in the rain. But this time, we've been met with blue, cloudless skies and lush green fields and wooded hills. Although this week we've gone from this:
To this:
Still, I find it beautiful. The mist and fog always make me turn to poetry. To me, this is Galicia at it's most beautiful.
What about you? Do you like sunshine best, or fog and mist? What weather most brings out the writer or photographer in you?
Still, I find it beautiful. The mist and fog always make me turn to poetry. To me, this is Galicia at it's most beautiful.