The last of the summer ouzo
I guess that the summer is really drawing to a close at last. Sunrise comes late and cool and the evenings draw in, bringing an end to the dinner on the sun terrace.
The hammock is stored away, the sun umbrella swathed in its plastic coat, sunbeds and chairs stacked, and BBQ tucked away. T-shirts and swimmers neatly piled back into the wardrobe drawers and the start of searching out warmer clothes.
The last cicada screeches at night and our resident praying mantis has disappeared. Small lizards are opting for an indoor life rather than scurry around the garden.
White clouds suddenly cross the ever blue sky and sometimes the mountains now disappear altogether from view as the clouds gather. Yesterday it rained hard for the first time since May but it is just very beautiful here now
Soon the last charter flight full of holidaymakers will wing its way back to Blighty and there will be not direct flights from the island to the UK until next Spring. Our friend Mike will be closing his beach bar in a few weeks for the winter, and there will be a long loud exhausted sigh from those working in the tourist resorts after a hard summer.
We have started to think of winter and build up our stock of logs and kindling for the somba (stove) - having honed my new skills with the chain saw (i.e. I still have all limbs intact at the time of writing). We have no idea what it will be like but look forward to the tranquility of it all, especially the more temperate weather. At least we will have two more hours of daylight every day during the depth of winter.
Following the creation of the new garden paths, we await to see how it effects
the run-off of heavy rainfall. Hopefully the garden will not return to its impression of the Somme, as it appeared last March when we arrived. Next task will be the harvesting of the olives from our trees next month.
The hammock is stored away, the sun umbrella swathed in its plastic coat, sunbeds and chairs stacked, and BBQ tucked away. T-shirts and swimmers neatly piled back into the wardrobe drawers and the start of searching out warmer clothes.
The last cicada screeches at night and our resident praying mantis has disappeared. Small lizards are opting for an indoor life rather than scurry around the garden.
White clouds suddenly cross the ever blue sky and sometimes the mountains now disappear altogether from view as the clouds gather. Yesterday it rained hard for the first time since May but it is just very beautiful here now
Soon the last charter flight full of holidaymakers will wing its way back to Blighty and there will be not direct flights from the island to the UK until next Spring. Our friend Mike will be closing his beach bar in a few weeks for the winter, and there will be a long loud exhausted sigh from those working in the tourist resorts after a hard summer.
We have started to think of winter and build up our stock of logs and kindling for the somba (stove) - having honed my new skills with the chain saw (i.e. I still have all limbs intact at the time of writing). We have no idea what it will be like but look forward to the tranquility of it all, especially the more temperate weather. At least we will have two more hours of daylight every day during the depth of winter.
Following the creation of the new garden paths, we await to see how it effects
the run-off of heavy rainfall. Hopefully the garden will not return to its impression of the Somme, as it appeared last March when we arrived. Next task will be the harvesting of the olives from our trees next month.
posted by Robert Burrell at
8:51 am
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