Falling in the Stream

I tried to write a post yesterday but couldn't upload it. I'm still having computer storage problems,  especially with my photos, which I thought were sorted... hope this publishes.

North Portugal last week.

Above - the lovely home and terrace of our friends where we ate many luscious extended  lunches and brunches in the shade...

including being welcomed by these hot oat and banana pancakes with cashew cream and fruit for our first breakfast.

While our friends live in a more rural area we four stayed in an apartment in the town. 

This is the view from our apartment window.

The town  -Aviero  -  is called the Venice of Portugal... 

the gondolas being the give away...

Spring flowers everywhere...

especially growing on the banks of the lagoon where we walked

in the evenings.

Hot white sandy beaches..... almost deserted on a windy day...

wonderful fresh vegetables in the indoor market...

 stylish grafitti...

more bright gondolas ...

and the ubiquitous custard tarts which were actually very disappointing.

The speciality of the region is a very sweet dessert

 called Ovos Moles - which means soft eggs (  I think ) and is just raw egg yolk and sugar whipped together and encased in a thin wafer. None of us could bear to try one. 

The story is that ovos moles came about because the nuns in the convents used so many egg whites to starch their wimples that they had to find a use for all the yolks as well.

I think they could have come up with a cooked dessert myself.

The rest tomorrow...

Home again.... a young black bird losing her feathers ...

a rare glimpse of a long tailed tit...they seem to have disappeared from the feeders now.

I have a squawking, flapping  invasion of a flock of young starlings instead...

who  feed quite happily on their own...

unless a parent is nearby then they demand to be fed with ever open beak.

I'm loving the new growth in the garden....even after a week's absence I notice a big change - 

calendula exploding in the swimming pool border..

a single aqualeiga in the bank...

the first poppy ( which I thought was a thistle in the grass bank  - thank goodness I didn't pull it up) bursting out in  papery coral glory.

Early this morning I drive to a garage in a nearby village and  leave my car for its MOT and annual service. The bus drops me back in the village square - ( it's quite a novelty riding a bus - the last time I was on a bus was with Robin when both our cars were in the garage ... we had an appointment in Sidmouth...we both really enjoyed the trip and the views from the top deck). I still feel very insecure/dependent/trapped though without my car - even for a few hours.

Instead of going straight home I take the route around the fields  - my shoes and hems of my jeans getting soaked along the way in the tunnel of long grass smothering the path ... the tangle of  cow parsley and pink campion coming up almost to my shoulders.

Later, wading in the stream in my wellies reaching for stems of wild carrot, pink campion and marsh marigold, to put in a vase on the kitchen window sill, I catch my foot on knobbly root and fall forward on my knees in the water and then tip sideways into the muddy bank. Not hurt  - just a bit wobbly....  and annoyed about soiled new jeans.

And I'm still feeling ungrounded...can't quite get a foothold back in my quiet life in Devon after being in the constant company of dear friends ...on holiday, on retreat....cosseted...nourished...challenged...seen. And now it's me and the garden and the birds...just loving whatever moments I can.