Algarve Letters

Spring in the South

I've had a couple of complaints. Life is hard. The weather is lousy. It's cold and dismal. You need light, warmth, good news. You dont want to hear bad news. Okay, let's bring you the good news.

The weather here is great. It's raining, but we need the rain. Something has to clean my car. Rain does a great job. Also, I do rather like standing on the bridge watching the river which flows through my garden. At the moment it doesn't flow, it roars and surges, and belts off down to the sea at a cracking pace. It's fascinating to watch.

Because the river is tidal, the surge of brown water rises as the tide comes in, higher and higher up the stone walls, until almost at the top. When we've had three days of downpour the water tips over the top of the wall and spreads out across the orchard, but today the water is a good couple of feet below the top of the wall.

Logs, crates, clumps of grass, and loads of elephant grass canes hurtle past where they will probably settle in the lagoon and gradually build up a bank of reclaimed land.

On the path are the toads keen to start families. There is a massive female toad with the tiny male clinging on top.



The blossom is fully out on all the almond trees. The blossom is also out on the peach trees, and I have a vase of peach blossom and one red rose on the windowsill above my table. The scent is wonderful.

This time last year I suddenly thought of that poem Home Thoughts From Abroad by Robert Browning, and thought I'd turn it round. After all, with spring burgeoning on every side, who on earth would think of England now?

Here it is. I hope it cheers you up.

Oh to walk in the Algarve
when the jonquils raise their heads
in the midst of the Algarve winter
when springtime lightly treads
    while in a clear blue sky
    the storks fly high
and under the ancient olive tree
side by side sit you and me


And after that the mimosa blooms
and sheaves of blossom fill the rooms
A drift of petals as from a wedding,
and the scent of honeyed musk
from the almond trees is spreading
around the edges of the early dusk.
    Who would dream of England
    Now that spring is here?

john