Andalucia in Winter

not all blue skies and warm weather

Our local mountain, Maroma, snow capped this April, for the first time in several years. A welcome wintery scene, guaranteeing this year’s water supply to the pueblos and springs.

We purchased our finca and moved to the Axarquia region of Andalucia in 1993. Like many people unfamiliar with the region and its seasons, we were surprised by the severity of our first winter, both with regards to its length and its chilly dampness. 93/94 was particularly harsh, with heavy rains beginning in late August and continuing off and on until mid April. The tops of the sierras were regularly blanketed in snow, and shrouded in dark cloud, and for much of the time our own hills felt more like those of Cumbria than of southern Iberia.

The Axarquian locals have a distinctly ambivalent attitude to their winters; on the one hand, many being farmers or related to farmers, they celebrate the breaking of the summer droughts and the first rains, but on the other hand; being true Andalusians they quickly tire of the cold and the damp and long for the return of the Spring sunshine.

In the winter of 2006 it wasn’t only the sierras that got a covering of snow . This was at our late friend and neighbour, Edgar’s place, and one of his two rescued Shetland ponies looking as happy as Larry in the wintery conditions.

The summer of our arrival in 1993 marked the end of about seven years of overly dry winters for much of the Mediterranean rim, with several climate scientists confidently predicting that our part of Spain “would resemble the Sahara by 2003”. Fortunately, the predictions proved wildly incorrect, both with that winter’s appropriately biblical rains, and then the following six or seven being equally long, wet and often very cold. One year, for example, about 30% of the Rio Velez Valley avocado and mango orchards were destroyed by a harsh early-winter frost. Subsequent to those first 14 years, we’ve experienced smaller runs of wet and then dryish winters, the latest such dryish run being the last four years which thankfully broke this winter, with long periods of rain, filling reservoirs and the reassuring sight of snow-peaked sierras.

However accurate or not the predictions of the climate scientists have proven, or will prove for this corner of Europe, the coming of the Sahara still feels a long way off.

Edgar’s stallion Ned however looking a little less certain with his first experience of the white stuff, even if wearing the appropriate tartan. And remember, this was three years after climate scientists had predicted that this would be a Saharan scene…

“HOPE SPRINGS ETERNAL…”*

as early signs of spring offer a little hope…

Despite some recent inclement weather, including frost and even a dusting of snow, the Axarquia is showing early signs of Spring. The pictures here, all taken over the past week, on and around our finca (small holding) in the foothills of the Sierra Tajeda remind us of nature’s imperviousness to the current dystopia we find ourselves condemned to inhabit for the foreseeable future.

Sometimes, pictures (even enhanced iPhone snaps) are far more eloquent than mere words…

Our hilltop finca, looking south west…
(Looking west) An almond tree, already in leaf
Marcona (almond) blossom…
(Looking north-east) Our local pueblo, Canillas de Aceituno, sitting beneath Mount Maroma and the Sierra Tajeda, from our house…
(Looking north-west) The pueblo of Periana and the Alfarnate countryside…
(Looking south-east) across our “main road” toward Arenas…
(Looking south-west) From our south vineyard, a neighbouring cottage and the Rio Velez valley beyond…
Fresh orange juice every morning, assured…
(Looking east-by-south east) But it’s the almonds stealing the show…
“Shepherd’s delight”? Here’s hoping…!

* From Alexander Pope (An Essay on Man – 1734)

WHERE THE GRASS IS (nearly) ALWAYS BROWNER…

…BUT WHERE THE ALMOND blossom is ALWAYS WHITER

I nearly titled this as a third straight “yearning” post, in the sense that after three months lock-down here in Oxford we are desperate to get back to our finca in southern Spain. But seeing as we are actually returning there tomorrow I decided on a catchier and hopefully more optimistic heading.

In fairness, when we’ve been in Spain for as long as we’ve now been in England there’s plenty I miss about our other lives in London and Oxford, but the longing is rarely as intense as what we are experiencing right now for our Andalusian home.

And perhaps there’s the clue; the fact that our little farm in the foothills of the Sierra Tajeda is the nearest thing Dido and I have ever had to a settled home. We’ve certainly owned it for more than three times as long as any of our previous homes (separately or together), and then there’s all the sweat and blood we’ve dripped into the building of our house and the rocky soil upon which it stands.

But perhaps, more than all of that, it’s simply the way the setting of our finca has ingrained itself into the fabric of our being through the sheer power of its ridiculous beauty.

So, although we missed wonders like the almond blossom display this year, thanks to about thirty years of memories, and images like the ones on show here, we can never truly miss them – they live inside of us, rendering us unusually fortunate.

VINTAGE VACATION

 

Apologies to my loyal followers but the wine making and other arduous – sometimes pleasant – farming tasks have left me little time to devote to this blog. Normal posting will resume next time. For now, here are a few striking images of the local environment around our small finca in the heart of the Axarquia in southern Spain.

Enjoy…we do.

 

AXARQUIA – IN SEASONS

A collection of digital “gouaches” showing the way the Axarquian landscape changes with the seasons – Yes we do have seasons – even snow from time to time. These images cover a period of twenty years…