Beginning of July

David and Mara share a moment

Fairy wood

like our hats?

It was a glorious weekend. On Sunday we walked around the woodland near Cwmtydu (close to New Quay),  through a fairy wood, across a flower meadow filled with butterflys, over a hill fort called Castell Bach with its own colony of common orchids and down to the secret beach only reachable on foot.

first view of Cardigan Bay

summer meadow

The first salad potatoes are out of the ground and yummy, and we've actually finished one planting of peas and are on to the next. And the chickens are growing happily up with their two mums; Ceredwin, who is a concientious mum, and Henrietta, who is now, sadly, more interested in filling her own belly that that of her chick. When I offer them mealworms, to encourage them to eat off my hand she's there with her massive (painful) beak, and doesn't offer a single morsel to brown chick. Poor thing has to fend for itself, although Daddy Pwych does keep an eye out for it.

orchids

 It was still warm, if cloudy and a bit breezy, early this week, when we met Gill and Jenny down the Ffostrasol Arms for lunch. We were able to sit on the patio with our after-lunch coffees, anyhow.

But today, Thursday, it's drizzling and not at all warm. Suddenly, I longed to be somewhere where the weather is predictably hot all summer. Like Montenegro, where Becky is right now. Or Spain; the Costa Del Azahar, where we spent many fabulous summers. The poem below is in memory of those times. 

Spanish Song

 Heat virgin olive oil in a heavy pan,

Chop onion and gently fry.

Crush garlic, but add later in case it might burn.

Heat the grill for the sweet peppers to sear…

…To sear in thirty degrees, 

Lay out the tropical towels 

Smear with factor ten in case we might burn

Add four thin bodies to the heat-swirled beach.

Add four thin pork boneless steaks to the pan.

Seal juices while peeling red peppers

Once they have blistered. Slice finely. 

Grind in black pepper, oregano seasoning…

…Season for the murmurs of summer, 

For the glitter of the wide sea,

The screech and splash as children leap,

For the sleepy Spanish tongue; those sun-dried sounds.

Drain and slice a jar of sun-dried tomatoes

Toss into pan the tomatoes and the peppers. 

Cover and simmer for twenty minutes

After which add twenty olives to salt the dish…

…Salt in your hair and the feel of sand

Where the bar of your flip-flops grinds between your toes

Coming up the hill from the beach, stepping over wild thyme

Under the acacia trees into the marble chill of Los Arcos.

Chill the wine in the marble cooler,

As you lay out the ceramic you bought in Valencia.

The pepper skins lift; gift-wrapped in scarlet tissue, 

Spoon out the cerdo espanol and fluff up the rice

As the vino blanco is poured and sipped

Put on some Flamenco and twirl round the table…

The long evening filled with the fast guitars

And the smells of ceno from the next apartamento.