These winds

These few last weeks we have had days of big winds, mornings where the valley is subject to great sways of seasonal change, pushing the last of the seeds around, and clearing debris. Each time, it carries a cool force from somewhere, and little by little it gets cooler and cooler, winds from across Europe come over the sea and make these mornings chillier as we slip softly into winter.
Each evening this week I have been by my self at La Serrania, the two guests left Tuesday. I have enjoyed the pleasures and the pains of being trapped in paradise, the upside being able to swim with no clothes in the setting sun! But, I fear after this weekend that my little ritual will change, this morning the pool is choppy with leaves and winds, a cold front pushing around the wet garden, and finally, winters presence prevails. The island is still charmingly beautiful in the winter, the olive and almond trees all leafless and expressive, the pines hold a dark light and become mysterious, the ocean, something to watch only, to enjoy from afar.
When the owners return from their lives and visit me up at the ranch, I excitedly over compensate for the lack of ears, and bore them with my rabbling and my pent up words.
The cat has been my faithful and kind companion, snuggling up to me, holding on tight with her arm around mine, pushing her little wet nose into me, and purring like mad. Sharing my bed and the couch, and watching Almodovar films into the night.
This morning Tim watches the rugby world cup and I can hear him and the german commentary getting exited and expressive. A woman has arrived, who I met the other day whilst we worked on the almond trees. ( battering them with a stick so they plummet to the earth to land on big nets we drag around the sundrenched garden, made about a garbage bag full!) and she is in the throes of divorce, quietly telling me, in her SwedishGerman accent, of how he up and left her with three baby boys. And as we have chatted here and there, I gather the loss in her silences, and feel her desperation, and know how she considers the impossible idea of never returning to her consuming boys and consuming affairs, so stay island-bound and free. I feel the strength of her will and negotiation of her desires. It's here that people come to escape and I feel the weight of their lives as it slowly slips off their shoulders and follows the winds to the hills for the week. The energy of healing can be heavy in it's subtleties, and takes many different forms.


I am off the island for a few days, to have a little break from these mountains, to get beyond them to the rest of the world, leaving the dreamland to the beat of Barcelona to go to the annual Spanish fantasy film festival!