The end of May, and final flecks of snow are slowly slipping away. Not as fast as earlier in the month, when the unusual heatwave hit and sweat dripped unladylike from the tip of my nose. That would be the only downside to such a sudden rise in temperatures. The upside was, after hastily finding summer attire, getting to the beach, flashing rather white skin towards the sun and then cooling off with a swim in the sea. It was like a Paleochora few have ever seen, so very flat-flat calm, a glossy sheen on the surface of the water. Decided there was an opportunity, and after an amount of consideration managed to persuade myself to get my snorkelling gear on, push beyond long held fears and get out into the unseasonally warm sea. With no-one else there it felt safer….. by that I probably mean safe from anyone noticing if I made an ass of myself, which I didn’t. It was amazing, many swarms of little fishes but no big monstrous ones, no music and no calm voiced commentary…. but still, it was really lovely and I will get back to it again, when the next spell of good weather kicks in – I’m a bit soft that way!
Although not over hot, it’s been dry for a while now and that’s noticeable all around – the deliciously lush growth of grasses and flowers since October have had their time and gone to straw.
This is a time I miss the greens of Scotland. Instead it’s all crunch, crackle, crunch underfoot during dog walk time. The unrecognisable remains of what was, until recently, bringing delight to my days now grinding down into the hard earth and the parched, sometimes slippery, pebbles. I have to walk with caution. The dogs, for their part, consider covid19 to mean ‘extra walks’, no complaints from them at all. Ordinarily by the time April arrives the only walking we do is up and down stairs and round the buildings, over and over all day long attending to work matters. This extended ’winter’ has allowed us to follow our regular zig-zag route up and around the fortress, most often not seeing anyone. There’s a pack of 5 friendly stray dogs en-route, who have come to know us yet not to mess with us. Rania (pouty Pomeranian) was particularly pleased that I was there to save her from the unwanted canine attentions when she was too overwhelmed to tell them herself. Now we have an understanding, a friendly chat and they allow us to pass unsniffed and, more importantly, they don’t join us or follow us home having decided that they will also become pets……
It’s impossible not to feel sorry for them not having a human family, but they’ve made this area of town their home and Paws Paleochora attend to their welfare, they’re clearly healthy and well fed. I learned a long time ago not to encourage a friendly stray to follow me home – they may bark and howl all night long, sad for them and very unwelcome for those of us wishing to sleep.
Over the last 7 months, puddles have come and gone, some were there for months and often large – mini ponds waiting for ducks! Lucy (‘mop dog’ as the Greek translation goes) was taught how to walk away from and not through them, therefore protecting the house from red muddy deposits. She probably held a fantasy of playing in those puddles. My own fantasy arose when the puddles were drying out: inner child wanted to sit down and prise out the interesting looking tiles, their edges rising seductively from the sludgy mess. In my head were images of the little huts muddy fingers could build….a village…a whole town. However, the stern inner adult was most firm about how it would appear, as if the neighbours would be watching, what does that inner adult really know???…… Inner teen uttered an expletive, grabbed inner child’s hand and went running off, carefully avoiding the massive thistles, about the only things left in flower up on the fortress.
Not wishing to be too glass half full in my descriptions – I do know that it’s never all arid, dreary, insipid pale yellows. There are always evergreens and soon the low mounds of shrubbery, that until recently seemed pretty much dead, will burst into flower. The top of the fortress is populated by wild thyme, the tough, woody stems and twigs have recently, subtly, greened over. When the sun is on them and the breeze just right I can catch the wafting aroma, in the next few weeks a purple glow will welcome us on our daily stroll. On the way up there are larger bushes just starting to pop out lilac flowers and during May, tall white flowers have been in bloom.
My eyes have gone squinty trying to figure out from my books the names of these flowers, must seek expertise from my botanist friend Jenny Neal. But I do know that it’s Oleander picking up the slack as others leave us for the summer – roadside avenues of bold cerise, mixed with whites and occasional pale pinks. It’s the random splodges and rambling lines of cerise along far mountainsides that’s cheering as I drive the quiet road to Hania. Very quiet, I never thought I’d miss the chugging, white-line-hogging hire cars! It’s SO different this year. Nature continues as ever, following a route plan and mixing it up a little, like early heatwaves, or later in the month hailstorms elsewhere in Greece. Our own plans currently are mixed up beyond anything any of us ever expected…………can only do what we can……..it’s been snorkelling for me……….another fear to conquer is to jump into the sea from the rocks, without all the squealing and fuss, or witnesses on the room balconies!………
Flora, June 8th 2020
