Sunday

It's Sunday morning, Paul Simon sounding on the radio, flies buzzing about in the sunshine, Flai asleep in his cave under the fig tree, oatmeal granola bars baking in the oven. I haven't written in a long time here, but this morning struck me as a good enough time as any to return.

I don't think I've even written about where we are now. Life has taken another turn in the last few months, adding to what seems like an endless curvy road of the past couple years. Remember that winter solstice party with the vegetarian group in December? Well, one of the members gave us a call a month later to offer us a caretaking job with his family's house. We jumped. And now we're here. Just south of Barcelona, snuggled up against the mountain looking out at the sea.

The first two months have flown by. Land cleaned and cleared, raised garden rows dug, chicken coop built and weaved, greenhouse frames assembled, escaped dogs found, baby chicks grown, house repaired, mountains wandered, bicycles moved.

From no leaves, to almond and then cherry and plum blossoms. Next came the leaf out. Now the figs are just waking up. The buds that looked like they would be closed forever finally burst open. Even the persimmons are starting to wear their coat of green. The olives who have foliage all year round are beginning to bloom - the promise of olives are in sight!

The seeds we planted inside and ferried out into the sunlight every morning and snuggled back in the house at night have all been planted in the Earth. Hard compact soil that suggests we should be potters rather than gardeners. And yet, with a few adventures to the horse farm near by and mining for "gemstones" under the chicken roost hopefully it will be enough natural fertilizer for something to grow. It's quite a practice of faith, this gardening business. Trusting the seed will germinate even though you can't see it. Anxiously hoping the transplants won't wither and die but instead take firm root and take off with reckless abandon. In the beginning it always seems as though we are throwing ourselves into the realm of sure disappointment only to be met with the steady magical science that the plants always grow despite the anxious worries. Some don't, but most do, enough to want to plant again the next year anyway.

Well, the sun is high in the sky and I have this lovely dog Flai cuddled by my side with his pleading face to take him for an adventure somewhere. Time to go....or otherwise he'll find somewhere to escape and I'll spend the next two hours looking for him.

Grapes to Bales - Happy New Year

We rang in the new year in Spanish fashion - eating 12 grapes as the clock dings (one each second for the last 12 seconds of the year). Sounds easy and delicious, if you are thinking of seedless grapes. Normally seedless any fruit seems just plain wrong to me. Breed something to not produce just doesn't make sense naturally speaking. But when you pop them in your mouth by the second seedless starts sounding really good. Here they use the good old fashioned natural grapes; seeds and all. So the last seconds become quite an obstacle course for the teeth and tongue. I sat ready, grapes in hand and anticipating mastering this art much better than last year. Only problem, when the first bell rang to eat the first grape I couldn't get my little baggie open. 5 seconds in I finally pried it open and just started chomping- seeds and all. Not exactly delicious, but I felt relieved that I finished on time. I wouldn't want any bad grape luck after all. 

The next day we packed up the van again (we had been staying with family) and hit the road to Avila, a town on the other side of the mountains outside Madrid. We were off to a workshop to learn how to build a house of strawbales. We had visited once before as volunteers and I was anxious to go back. The place is a large tract of land owned within which different families own their own small parcels. As we curved the mountain road up to the 'land of the pines' the scatterings of yurts and teepees, bale houses and container homes popped into view.

We arrived late although much more punctual than the previous time. The month before on our way to volunteer, the Guardia Civil (police) stopped us. They saw our van (back then she was still quite "particular") and thought we were robbers. Often times thieves go to the small towns throughout Spain and rob the country homes, usually driving run down crappy vans. They seemed a bit bummed when we opened the back doors and they didn't find any contraband.

Anyway, so we arrive. The dogs welcoming us with their curious barks and leading us down the path to the workshop. The next six days was a mix of technical details taught inside (in a strawbale building) and then hands on practice. In short- I learned how to build a 30square meter house from choosing location with compass, digging and building a foundation, to mounting the walls, constructing the post and beam structure, green roof designs and then the smaller details of making artisan windows, shelves and benches. I've never used so much of my high school math classes! Cosign, sign, diagonals, angles, wow! I had so much fun I even had brief flashes of how cool it would be to be a math teacher and teach by building a house with my students! I felt exsercised from my toes to my brain and everything in between.

Then there were the workshops about self-sufficiency and renewable energies. Hot water heaters, solar panels, bicycle powered battery chargers, bicycle powered washing machines, trombe walls, cars running on veggie oil (which thanks to Jota's undoubting dedication La Patata runs on veggie oil too) and then there was the solar stoves and non-electric/non-gas water pump and homemade jacuzzi's heated by the sun. Wow. So awesome to see so many ideas really being used in every day life.

We woke up to ice inside the van which gave me more lessons in physics/natural science. We had insulated the walls with cork (a non toxic abundant insulator here) and the ceiling with yoga mats but here in the cold of this place it wasn't enough. The whole van was dry, except the screws in the ceiling. I figure the metal screws transmitted the cold from the metal beams so while we were sleeping the warm air of an exhale touched the cold of the screw and voila - condensation. And mix that with super super cold weather and well, you get ice.

At night some brought instruments or their singing voices and serenaded us all. The last night I told a story with wool puppets- the first time in a long time. I enjoyed it so much.

We stayed an extra day to help dig and level a foundation for a pool. When it's finished they'll use it to collect, filter and store water for the garden.

Driving away I felt happy and fulfilled and so empowered after building something so cool.I guess I thought it would be something I couldn't ever do or would never have the skills for. Only six days and I feel as though it's in my reach, touchable, obtainable. Sounds cliche but really, after cutting a beam with a hand saw and drilling bolts with an electric screw driver, measuring angles and designing windows I felt every ounce of woman power. I know female carpenters but I didn't realize before that I had a subconcious idea about roles and gender and where I fit into that. The woman in me never thought there was a carpenter in there. And then now here I am on the other side of this six days and well I can see the carpenter.   

Next stop Galicia to visit friends and collect our bicycles. Two weeks more until I fly home!