The old faithful

Yes, it's that time of year again. Be prepared for more sunsets (given my sleeping habits, I can't promise any sunrises), camera dependent.

Yet another sunset (but still no cows)

Mixed skies

It's the time of year the weather often does this, or worse.



Although it's not always that bleak.


Blue skies in February. Normally, by this time of year everything is convered in snow. The neighbour's mimosa adds a welcome dash of colour whatever. As does the minature version on this side of the fence.



Vegetable planting has been started. In December a packet of chilli seeds arrived in the post, sent by a friend in the UK. Each of five friends has a packet and we're going to see who can grow the best chillies.



According to the bumf that came with the packet, you're not supposed to plant them until February. I cheated and sowed them about four weeks ago. They're currently in a propagator on a sunny window ledge, looking very happy.

And this is what I should hopefully have come summer.



The variety is called Twilight, I'm very enamoured with the colours, especially the purple. Almost too good to eat.

No, it's not another sunset

I was saving this one for a while until I'd written a post that didn't include me blathering on about how lovely Asturias is - I do have a couple planned, but time is limited at the moment. I've just been visiting Magdalene and Martin and sunrises and skies seem to be the order of the day, I felt the need to share too, again. Last one, I promise.

First snow of the year

I've been asked recently what happened to all this snow I'd been talking about. Well, the weather people here must have been having a severe Michael Fish moment, because they got the predictions completely wrong; last week we enjoyed a whole seven days of sunshine, temperatures of up to 20 degrees and several tasty lunches on the terrace.

Given this splendid January weather, we did suffer slightly last Friday when temperatures plummeted and the rain finally appeared. We awoke on Saturday morning to this:


Our view to the south-west

I always think it looks as if someone had grabbed a giant sieve and delicately dusted the peaks with icing sugar. When we eventually get snow here and I have to traipse down to work in my wellies I'm sure this rather romantic image will promptly disappear from mind.

The sky quickly cleared and we went for a long walk up above the house. This is the Peña Mayor to the east of us, with melting snow. It didn't last long did it?



Since then there's been more snow, and more melting. The closer mountains are currently almost free of the white stuff. This is the cat-and-mouse teasing before it pounces on us here below. Preparations will be needed so we can sit snug indoors by the fire of an evening while the snow falls silently outside.

In the meantime, I intend to enjoy the current spell of fine weather which is due to continue for the next week or so. Lunch on the terrace today I think. I just hope the Spanish weather people haven't been talking to that Mr Fish again.

Why we don't need a telly

Sorry to bore you all with pictures of sunsets again, but this one was too good not to show.

Panic Over

'Tis the season to be jolly because it seems I spoke to soon about my trusty camera, which is still functioning after all.

Here, to celebrate, is a picture of a sunset from a couple of evenings ago.

A real nip in the air

This last week has been getting distinctly chilly, a far cry from the start of winter last year when we were still picking tomatoes. To make matters worse we've been getting up early for all sorts of reasons, curtailing my snug mornings in bed as I wait for the temeprature to rise.

The advantage to this is catching the first rays of sun on the mountains in the morning. And before everyone stands back in complete shock and thinks I've somehow overcome my innate aversion to rising from bed at a 'decent hour': the sun doesn't get over the mountains here until about 8.30am, although I do still like being able to say that I get up with the sun.



First sun of the day on the mountains


As the sun rises over our valley

I'd like to be able to say that I have been inspired by the natural beauty of the early morning to rise at a similar hour next week. However, I know myself too well and I expect that I shall be snug in bed waiting for it to warm up before I sneak so much as a little toe out from under the duvet.

Things that make me happy about living in Spain, part IV

OK, this is specifically an Asturias related one, but I say it still counts:

I'm sitting at my computer and gazing out of the window at the back of the house, I can see clear blue skies. I know that if I could be bothered to get up right now and look out of the windows at the front or side I would see the mountains, clear and looming in the distance, so clear that you can make out individual ridges despite the 20/30/40+ km away that they are.

It's apple-picking time here, and the trees are laden with hundreds of red and green fruit, soon to be picked for cider production. The countryside is covered with the green of these trees with spashes of colour on their branches. Some types of tree will remain green all winter, others are now turning and colour abounds. Oak trees are a particular favourite as their leaves change to a firey orange-red colour before they fall.

We have sweet-chestnut collecting planned for this afternoon, and despite always getting pricked fingers from the protective outer shells, the eating of roast chestnuts from our fire on a cool autumn evening, snug indoors, always more than makes up for it. This is also the time of year when the cats change their habits - giving up the nocturnal life for dozing on the sofa or by the fire in the evening and diurnal explorations when the sun appears; they keep us company more often now, in the house or garden.

Tomorrow we intend to pick our biggest pumpkins. We have three monsters growing in the vegetable patch, with stakes strategically placed to prevent them from rolling down the slope of the garden - I currently often daydream of a James and the Giant Peach incident where one breaks loose from its restraints to proudly roll and bounce its way down the hill to the town and then into the river whereupon it floats, magestically, to the sea. Matt has plans for the two biggest ones, but I shall enjoy carving the third to take down to the academia next week in time for Halloween.

Mushrooms are starting to appear, in all shapes, colours and sizes - pleasing to the eye if not to the stomach - and soon we'll be able to pick and feast upon large field mushrooms, delicious cooked with butter and garlic.

And, even though this isn 't specific to Asturias, or even Spain, the clocks go back tonight and I get an extra hour to enjoy all of the above (or an extra hour in bed depending on how I'm feeling).

Given all that, how could I not put Autumn in Rural Asturias onto my list?

Early-morning cloud

I do like waking up in the morning - as long as it's not too early so I can wake up without help from anything or anyone else - and opening the curtains, as I'm never quite sure what I'm going to see. This morning was particularly special.



The cloud has cleared now, the sky is blue and I can see no clouds. It's perfect hammock weather. Or would be if I didn't have to go and collect some cucho (Asturian for 'manure') from the neighbour.

Summertime, and the living is easy...

Well, it has to be when it's this hot. The forecast is giving it to be 37 degrees today and for once, it's not wrong. It was possibly hotter on our terrace today at lunchtime and we ate inside for the first time in ages. Phew.

Seeing as it's too hot for us to have done anything of much interest I thought I'd post a selection of photos I like, taken during the last couple of weeks or so.

A flower from what we think is an ajo-puerro (garlic-leek). They grow in our garden every year without us doing anything to them. Even if we pull them up they still reappear the following year, although we tend to leave them so we can enjoy the flowers.

Moonrise over the mountains. We've caught a few of these recently as it's now hot enough to eat dinner outside, and we take full advatage.

How to spot a black cat on a dark night.

Three of the luckiest cats in Asturias, on the terrace in the cooler evening weather.

And finally, this is where I'm hoping to laze tomorrow, joined by a good book, a glass of something cool and refreshing and maybe a cat, if I'm lucky.

The 'summer' garden

I say 'summer' because, even though we're almost in July, it hasn't properly started yet, bar the odd day of blue skies and no rain. I know we're in Asturias, I know it rains here - otherwise it wouldn't be so lush and green and I wouldn't love the place so much - but please!

We wake up almost every day to grey cloudy skies and I have to say I'm fed up with it. We had so much rain in May and the start of June that half of our onions have given up and fallen over (their roots have rotted) and even the potato plants have started to die back, in June! The peppers, tomatoes and aubergines have been hanging on in there but are growing slowly, very slowly. I suspect we'll end up with tomatoes on Xmas day again, like last year (we were given cherry tomato plants last year but weren't told they were a bush variety, so we spent the first half of the summer getting rid of side shoots and then were puzzled as to why we had so few tomatoes. As soon as we left the plants alone they produced copious quantities of fruit and didn't die until January. I've never picked fresh tomoatoes on 25th December before, and from an outside plant at that).

Not wishing to end on a grumpy note, we have had our first harvest of currants, gooseberries and raspberries (one of my favourites) this year. The plants are still young so we only managed enough for a crumble, which Matt made for dinner last night. I have to say that Matt is a Crumble King. It was wondeerful to come home last night and have dinner almost ready and a scrumptious, mostly blackcurrant, crumble for dessert. He also makes a good one with mango and grated ginger and the latest experiment was a kiwi crumble, which turned out surprisingly well.


Crumble ingredients

Also, all the new trees and shrubs that we planted this spring are enjoying the weather, which means less watering work for us.

And, and this is exciting - for me anyway- we have our first mandarins forming on our one citrus tree, hopefully they won't fall off before they ripen (which is what happened to the cherries).

All in all, I suppose I shouldn't really complain but I want my summer!

A pot of gold

It's been a mixed bag of weather today: hot sun and lashings of rain - this is what I've just seen from the terrace. It's a shame it was so close as it was a full one but the camera couldn't catch it, bah.

Storm Approaching

This picture was taken from our terrace about half an hour ago. I'd been hearing the rumble of thunder all afternoon (it'd been been hot and muggy and all day) and stepped out to take a look. The weather here, so close to the mountains, is sometimes unpredictable, which can be extremely annoying. This time, however, the light peeking out from above the mountains and below the storm clouds was quite beautiful. It almost made up for what happened next. I stood on the terrace enjoying the view as the wind picked up, I could hear a wall of rain steadily approaching. At least that's what I thought. It turned out to be not just torrential rain, but hail. Marble-sized hail. In June. I dashed inside and shut the windows, and just in time too. Look what happened shortly afterwards.

The strange thing is I can now see nothing but blue sky out of the office window. Matt has just gone to check the damage in the garden, fingers crossed.

A lazy, rainy day

It's raining, still. It's not really stopped since Monday. This is why I'm still sat in my pyjamas and dressing gown at half three in the afternoon - I really don't want to venture outside. There was a moment when the sun briefly showed itself this morning, and I excitedly, but foolishly put the washing on. The cats all have cabin fever. They punctuate their long snoozes with mad bouts of chasing each other around the house and attacking whatever or whoever is looking vulnerable.

We knew when we came here that it rained, a lot. And I'd had practice at enduring the rain: I grew up in the NW of England, near Manchester and then spent ten years studying in Cardiff (I once read somewhere, and it came as no surprise, that these are the two wettest cities in the UK) so I should be used to putting up with downpours and dealing with dripping umbrellas and soggy jeans.

The good news is that it looks like we'll be getting some sun next week. In the meantime I'm staying dry inside while I can. I'm not a huge hot drinks fan, I usually prefer something refreshing (my current favourite is grape and pineapple juice mixed with sparkling water), however I do like these two rooibos herbal teas. The raspberry one smells and tastes scrumptious and the ginger, cinnamon and cardamom one is perfect for a cold wet day (although the brand name is somewhat unfortunate).

Overindulgence

Early yesterday evening we went halfway down the hill to an espicha in the village of Lantero. Espichas are mini-fiestas to celebrate the opening of a new barrel of cider. They take place in Asturias from mid-March to the end of April. Cider is a big deal here, it's the drink of choice for most Asturians. Many people make their own and apple orchards are a common sight. Cider pouring is an art. Because the cider is flat you're supposed to hold the glass in one hand down by your knees and then pour in an inch or so of cider from above head height to give it a bit of fizz. They even have organised competitions to see who can do it best and they're taken very seriously: winning one can add immensely to your social stature. There's a drinking etiquette which states that you're to knock back the cider in one go (so as not to let it get flat again) and all Asturians follow this to the letter. And, you share a glass and pass it round making it very easy to get through a bottle in this way. It's also used a lot in cooking here. We make a rather tasty butter bean and vegetable stew (with chorizo for non-veggies) It's cooked gently for about an hour in the cider, either in the oven or on the hob, and then we add lots of fresh parsley before serving. It's very good with mash or on it's own.

So, along we went yesterday with the idea of having a bottle or two, the odd tapa and then making our way back up the hill for a relaxing evening at home. All was going to plan, we'd quaffed one bottle and were well on our way to finishing the second. Tapas had been consumed, we were feeling rather mellow and were comtemplating ambling back home. Then, Matt received a text from some friends, Duncan and Susana, down in the town 'we're off for a drink if you want to join us'. "Why not?" said Matt "we hardly ever go out" and, having finished the last of the cider, we walked the rest of the way down the hill.

Now, I know from experiences as a teenager (yes, in plural - it took me a while to learn) that mixing beer and cider is not very clever, especially with just a pincho de tortilla - a small bread roll filled with a slice of Spanish omelette - in my belly to soak it all up. However, with a bottle of cider buzzing around inside me it didn't seem so important when we got to the bar. Besides, as it wasn't a sidreria - a bar specialising in cider, so more of the same was not an option, beer it was. And very happily I drunk it too. Also, I must point out here that Duncan (as you can probably tell from the name) is a Scot who, conforming to national stereotypes, does like his drink and sets a fast pace too. You can usually tell how much he's been drinking by how quickly he's talking - the more beer imbued, the faster the speech, and with a strong Glaswegian accent it's taken us some practice to understand what's he's saying once he's had a few. We eagerly, and noisily I imagine, talked the night away, in the process moving from the bar to Duncan And Susana's flat where they kindly made us pizza and salad. This was when Duncan had the idea to open a bottle of red wine. Details were hazy by this point so I'm not quite sure how much went down my throat - not as much as down Matt's it looks like (he's still suffering in bed at 3.15 pm) - and when I looked at my watch, well stone me, it'd suddenly reached 2 am.
Fortunately I wasn't so drunk that I forgot to sensibly put a glass of water by my bed once we'd taken a taxi home. I think it's more the mixture rather than quantities, and lack of food (very rare for me) that have caused this particular hangover. What's making it worse it that we have to go and find some firewood before the day is out. According to the weather forecast it's going to snow tomorrow, and Tuesday, and Wednesday. Yes. Snow. It's rather hard to believe at the moment, it's a gorgeous spring day with an incredibly
blue sky and not a cloud in sight. There's blossom on the trees and our jasmine is flowering. However, we have been caught out before - most notably in January 2005 when we were due to go and apply for our Spanish residency papers and it snowed heavily the night before. Matt, not wanting to miss the appointment that we'd waited two months for, and seeing the main road was clear, tried to drive us down the hill. Instead we ended up in the ditch having made it no further than the second corner, and had to wait a week for the snow to melt so the tow truck could come and lift the car out - so we've learnt not to be complacent.

Despite the snow causing us more work, effort and problems. It's always astoundingly beautiful here when it falls. The second appointment we made for the residency card application also fell on a day when it snowed - just typical. Not wishing to miss it for a second time, we got up early, put on our boots and gloves and battled through the snow down the hill to the train station. Nobody else was about at that hour and everything was covered with a pristine white blanket that glistened in the sun. It was like being a some kind of magical fairyland, our own personal Narnia, and I cursed myself for not having thought to take my camera out with me. The last time is snowed here was in early February. It made my simple trips to work and back much more difficult than usual. Although walking halfway up the hill from my abandoned car each day for a week made me much fitter, and I always arrived home very ready for my dinner. It was also lovely to see the lights of El Entrego beneath me, glinting in the snow as I walked. Even so, despite all this loveliness I find I'm wishing that they've got it all wrong and tomorrow will be just another spring day, although glancing out of the window I see the clouds arriving, here we go again.