Hello everyone
I wish I could write more often but time flies by so fast when you’re busy. Thankfully photos are such good reminders; glimpses into the small and larger tasks we undertake. I won’t bore you with the detail except to say, every job, small or large, does the job! John and I find some projects very challenging, but equally rewarding. We would not be able to afford getting someone in every time something needs doing and so we take it on ourselves, knowing it will take longer but hey, we ‘focus on the journey, not the destination’. Not true. Nothing beats the contentment that comes with completing a project.
Working on a dwelling such as this has its challenges, small and large. Any hole drilled becomes a cloud of fine dust, walls are not straight, heavy machinery often required as is physical strength, ceilings are high, and the list goes on. We are currently working on the Olympic size plunge pool which, at this rate, we will inaugurate next year, landscaping a couple of bare areas with old stone and rock salvaged from inside the house and from the fields, while simultaneously harvesting what has miraculously grown, and sowing our autumn hopefuls!
In early August John and I celebrated my birthday in the Salento, so back to the furthest point in the heel of Italy we went, where the sea is crystal clear, turquoise, blue, just gorgeous, and where the sea food is abundant, fresh, and so good. It was a perfect break away from our little bubble. Just a couple of days near the sea, in the sea, indulging in its smell, its fruits, recharging our batteries. I am thankful to everyone who reached out on my birthday, extremely grateful for the people in my life. Since then, my Mama’ has also had her birthday. Here is a favourite photo of us the day I was born, taken by my papa’ who will have his birthday in a few days. 94!
As summer progresses in this part of the world, and the heat continues to beat down on the earth, trees and plants focus all their energy, every drop of water into ripening their fruit which to us, still experiencing the cycle of seasons for the first time, is a way of knowing which tree is which (when we arrived in late October they had nearly all shed their leaves) and of knowing we have not killed them (yet).
We have plums, so many plums, cherry plums, victoria plums, yellow, red, settembrina, so many pears, figs, goodness so many figs! They all come at once and from all directions; not only must you prepare your digestive system to eat as many as it can take with the varied consequences, but also prepare to wash, peel, halve, dry, poach, stew, pack and give away! Our trees are generous, so are our neighbours! We have not quite figured out who has what, but what we have found out is they too have much and more! We have been gifted grapes, peppers, tomatoes, cucumber, and of course, more figs, more plums, and more pears. We have reciprocated with what we have i.e. tomatoes, cucumber, figs, pears, but at some point we are going to have to stop, cause the more you give, the more you receive, by a hundred fold! What I was taught in catechism classes is indeed THE truth, Alleluia!!
There should be a system, as in olden times, whereby such gifting is a more targeted exchange and the bartering more effective! I have a faint suspicion, this gifting is not just the result of generous sharing souls…….it helps seal friendships for sure, create neighbourly bonds, but admittedly, it basically is an offload of one’s excess to someone else. Sounds insensitive, but we all have experienced it. Bags of produce arrive at the door, and I hold my breath hoping against all hope, the bag contains something we don’t grow, something new, something that does not require research and the 147th version of ‘how to cook’, ‘how to preserve’, etc.
Ironically the only leafy goodness of which we have plenty but no one else grows that I would be very happy to barter is coriander, but as you will recall, it is not compatible with the Puglian palate, hence I must resort to making more pesto. Not such a bad compromise. Basil (grown from seed, please note because I am very proud, thank you) has also been rather abundant. That too is becoming pesto, and the pears chutney.
I am particularly happy with the prickly pear crop that is looking very promising. They must be harvested early in the morning before the spikes and thorns dry up and fly everywhere. Armed with gloves and plastic cups John has so far raided the cacti in no man’s land; very very good, delicious. Those on our land are next. For those of you who are not in the know, prickly pears are the fruit of the Mediterranean cactus which bears its fruit from mid August to late September. The fruit taste like Prickly pear. Can’t describe it……like feijoa tastes of Feijoa. Lots of pips but with the delicious pulp they go down a treat. Two or three are generally beneficial roughage for the system, but as many Maltesers will have experienced, more can cause major issues with flow! You get the drift!
Drying fruit is a task that takes me back to my childhood when I stayed at my grandmother’s. I was the one responsible for the trays of tomatoes and figs, cut in half and laid out under muslin. Take them out in the morning, bring them back in before dusk, or during the rare rain shower. The most preserved memory of this dance up and down the spiral staircase back and forth from the roof is the smell of the drying fruit, becoming sweeter and sweeter every day.
I usually stayed at my grandmother’s at this time of the year. Her and Nannu lived in a village about 12km from where I grew up. The village feast is celebrated on the 15th of August, but for a good 15 days prior, the village goes into full fete mode and so do its inhabitants. Homes are cleaned, festa upholstery and shiny wares brought out, balconies decorated with lights, plants and flags, streets lit up like a Christmas tree, Statues of all saints, shapes and sizes lined the streets like sentries, keep an eye(s) on the proceedings. For me, this time was a magical one. I got to spend time with my Nanna and my aunt who was only a few years older than me, and with a Nannu who to me as a young girl, seemed to become a much jovial version of himself as feast day approached. He gave me and my cousins festa pocket money to spend as we wanted, hot dogs, nougat, sweets, coke, candy floss, sparklers, and cheap plastic toys. The lead up to the feast day, and the feast day itself, despite the chaotic change that swept through the otherwise sleepy village, had a routine, a predictability, a program, but it was always new, exciting, different! And I got to wear a new dress, how good is that?
I have digressed, but not by much. Ferragosto (ferie- holidays, di agosto - of august) in Italy, is the time when Italians have traditionally gone on holiday, when everything shuts, labour is nowhere to be found, and a lull descends over the cities. That is until a few years ago, when the gap left by the holidaying locals is nowadays filled, to overflowing, by visitors and tourists. The locals who stay behind are those whose mission is to feed, water, entertain, and why not?, extort them. This year, a few days before the feast day, I innocently augured a market stall owner “Buone Ferie”, happy holidays. He rambled along for 10 minutes, gesturing profusely, wiping sweat off his face. I barely understood what he said; Puglian accent remember? What he intimated, I think, was ‘there’s no rest for the wicked, we must sacrifice our holidays………too many visitors, one must take advantage of that’. Or something to that effect!
Anyway, here is some background for you which I did not know……Ferragosto originated in 18 BC from the Roman festival Feriae Augusti (Augustus' Rest), a period of rest and celebration for agricultural workers after the summer harvest, established by Emperor Augustus. Over time, particularly with the spread of Christianity, the date shifted to August 15 to coincide with the Catholic feast of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary, blending the ancient pagan holiday with religious significance. In the 20th century, the introduction of affordable "holiday trains" during the fascist era made it possible for even the working class to travel to seaside resorts, solidifying Ferragosto as a major public holiday and a national pause for rest and celebration. There you go!
The middle of August brings the clouds into the otherwise blue sky over the southern Mediterranean.
In Malta these are called ‘gharajjex’. When I was younger, I thought or maybe was told, ‘gharajjex’ came from the Maltese word for ‘tickling’ and that the ‘gharajjex’ of Santa Marija, meant Our Lady was tickled to tears, and these tears mysteriously turned to rain! (who would tickle Our Lady Mary is another mystery!). Such a wonderful interpretation of a common meteorological phenomenon.
The gharajjex are the cumulus clouds that build over the seas and accumulate as they meet warmer air on the hot land. Furter inland they become large dark threatening cumuli. Lightening and thunder commence their rumblings, the air fills with rain, which eventually falls in heavy short bursts, a fragrant life-line to the ground below. In itself this phenomenon is already random, sporadic, but here it appears to be particularly avoiding us. Not to sound paranoid but it feels like the gods of rain have something against this part of town. Maybe it’s not warm enough to pull the moisture this way, maybe our rain dance, despite all efforts, is not that pleasing to the gods, who knows? We see lightening, hear the thunder, fill our hearts with hope, bring in the drying fruit, admire the clouds, pray, dance, but very little happens. We’ve had a couple of teasers and they felt good. A little more would be very good. Our wells are thirsty too.
Above all else, August has also brought visitors to our abode. It has been a joy having them here, share good food, chat till late, visit places. Special times, special friendships. They thank us but we thank them for what they bring to this place. I love seeing the look on people’s faces when they see things we are starting to take for granted, and above all, I love the sensation I get when, through their eyes and their reactions, I am reminded this is now my place. This is where I belong…..for now.
Abbracci