Tag: pueblo

time passes

2:00 am
Crickets creak a tripwire grid
across the garden.

4:00 am
The hoot of an owl glides like a shadow
from the heart of the tallest pine.

5:30 am
The rooster’s crowing wakens the hens
who peck and pick, unravelling
the fraying edges of the night.

6:00 am
Now, all the valley dogs are worrying
at the straggling ends of dark; they tug
and bark and run with them towards the morning.

 

(A draft – or perhaps just notes for a poem – which is very much a variation on a theme. I posted an earlier interpretation almost exactly two years ago as Alarm)

Incidentally, trying to find out what type of owl I was writing about, I found the Owl Pages site with its extensive selection of recordings. And having cross-referenced with the Iberia Nature site, I think I must be thinking of a tawny owl.

one man and his goats

goats

There were two dogs with the man: one, a rangy young mastiff type who seemed to do nothing but make sure the cars didn’t get too near, and the other, an unattractive, but very efficient, blue-grey border collie.

The goats themselves were rather fine examples of the sort of animal I’d expect to be at the head of the ranks of the Royal Welch Fusiliers. The mastiff explains why I didn’t take a close-up.

harvest

I’ve mentioned before that there’s an old guy who keeps cerdos on the plot of land alongside the olivar. Just two pigs, each year: one for each of his daughters. I’ve started taking the windfalls across for them when I walk down to the village.

When the guy isn’t there, I leave the bag by the chair where he sits each day, morning and evening, watching the pigs get fat. Sometimes one of the other viejos del pueblo joins him and they put the world to rights while the old burro grazes patiently, tethered to an olive tree.
Continue reading “harvest”

sunrise; moonset

moon set over Gredos

In reality, the mountains were even redder and the moon was rather clearer. Clicking on the photo will give a bigger, slightly brighter, version.

(If you’re wondering, yes, it’s “shopped”, inasmuch as I cloned out some cables. If I’d walked far enough to take the picture without them being in the way, the colours would have been completely lost.)

good hunting

Up on top of Puerto del Pico, the pass that crosses the Gredo mountains on the road leading north from us to Ávila, there’s a sign:

Signpost: coto de cabra montés: prohibido espantar a los animales. Ley de Caza Art. 33, Apd. 17

It says that there are mountain goats in the area and that it’s prohibido espantar a los animales – Do not frighten the animals – which, at first sight, seems reasonable enough.
Continue reading “good hunting”