In the morning when I do my (meditation) walk, on the way to the river, I come across all kinds of things, which are amazingly interesting. First I have to go down the hill, past the compost and get the area. The site, which I have at my disposal, is 2 hectares in size, is full of olive trees and on the river side grows bamboo with blackberry bushes, here and there a cork tree with holm oak, and even cattail. The total area is about 30 hectares, where I can walk undisturbed. Centuries ago the river silted up the ground, close to the hill on which our house stands, and where the olive trees are. It is flat, with good soil, and further in the area there are hills, rocks and sometimes paths where you can walk. The river has been able to wear itself in over centuries and curves through the landscape. It is marked with large rocky outcrops, and to the side of it are tracts of land grazed by sheep.
To make a grazing area for the sheep, it is the custom here to work the soil with a disc harrow in August, then the young bushes die from the heat, and the grass and herbs just come up again, like the rain. coming. The hills are easily 20 to 30 m high and with their sometimes protruding rocks, they look dangerous. Sometimes a rock sticks out in the area, and you get the idea that it could fall at any moment. The grass that grows here and there is eaten by the pastor's sheep, that's what they call a shepherd here. The grazing of the sheep creates a walking area, with paths here and there, created by the sheep, because Mom is in front and the children behind. Such a herd usually consists of a hundred sheep, here in the area, and so the land is grazed to prevent afforestation. When the disc harrow has done its job, there remains a landscape with all clods of earth, where you can hardly walk over it. The tires of the tractor then make a gully, which then becomes a path, after a while of walking. And the sheep also make use of that.During my walk, while walking along the river, which has all kinds of rapids, and which you can clearly hear, I also encounter widening areas, where the rocks determine how wide the river can be. Gradually, and determined by the rocks, the hills then go up, with here and there on the rocks, lichens, which light up pale when the sun shines on them. When no rain had fallen this year, the river actually consisted of only stones and rocks. These are often rounded off by the flowing water, which has been flowing past it for centuries and which determine the shape of the stone or rock. There are loose rocks that look amazingly smooth, are often oval shaped, are superimposed, and weigh maybe tons. The rocks also consist of different types of rock and apparently there are differences between harder and soft types. I think the soft rock types also make a difference in the shape, they suffer more from the water in terms of wear and tear. The harder types of rock are blue in color, the softer types more yellow and red. And besides that, they are sometimes, in lower parts, overgrown with mossy undergrowth, which dry up in the summer, but when there is water again, come to life or the seed of it.In the winter, some water is left behind in pools, where the young and small fish get the chance to grow, also the frogs and sometimes a river crap. I can then sit on the rocks and watch all that life unfolding and moving in front of me.
But one night there is still the long-awaited rain, and then the river is suddenly filled. An enormous amount of water flows through it, with all kinds of torn off shrubs, hay and leaves. The water is then brown in color, due to the soil that was flushed along, which also ends up in the barragem.Before the pastor came with his sheep, I had come across a sheep running free, from another pastor, who had crossed the then dry river, and I spoke with that in my way. But she didn't continue to trust me no matter how I spoke to her. I met her on a narrow path, and she stamped her paw on the ground to show me that she was there too. She then walked around me via a platform. One day she had a lamb with her, suddenly there was a sheep with eight legs :). The lamb kept turning around her, like a good lamb does. Staying close to the mother, because that's where the milk comes from. But a day later I found the sheep lying on its back, among the bushes, neatly with its legs tucked up. At first I thought she was dead, but when I found a path to it, it moved. I then pulled her out of the bushes, and then she was able to get up on her feet, and she walked away from me, chewing the cud. I did look forward to the lamb then, but I didn't see that anywhere then.
After a few days I found it, dead in the grass. The intestines had already been eaten out, and flies, fat mopeds, were on her skin. Then you see that nature leaves nothing unused. I think a wild pig killed it, or a fox, they are here too. But as time went on, more and more maggots emerged from the corpse. And the pig has already eaten it a few times. Bones were eaten away, the skeleton protruded more and more clearly from the skin. The maggots too. A pig must have a strong stomach to eat both the meat, which is long overdue, and the maggots that are also in it. I can imagine that this is not a story that is pleasant on your stomach, but that is how it goes in nature. Nothing is lost.
In the meantime, the river continues to flow as usual, millions of m3 of water are on their way to the barragem, the reservoir that collects all the rainwater, to provide horticulturists, agriculture and villages with water.The area I walk through, along the Mira River, comes from a long way, and there are even mines that use the water to wash the ore that is mined there. The area is characterized by the cork and holm oak, although many die from the heat. The holm oak is widely used for firewood. It burns for a long time and gives off considerable heat. This is how people warm themselves here, for centuries. The cork oak is for the cork, the wood is not suitable for burning. If the trees are left, only the bark remains. It can last a long time. But per square kilometer, sometimes only a few people live there. And one of them is me.
The sheep eat the grass, which is currently still rich in protein, hence the turds. Normally a sheep poops marble balls, like poo. If there is a turd in the grass, a pile of soil will be added from below. Then an animal will lay its eggs or maggots in it. Then, after a few days, the birds come to eat those eggs or maggots. They then poke out those eggs or maggots with their beaks and spread the turd in small pieces in the area where it was laid. Again nothing is lost. Then flies come to this and then lay eggs again.So nothing is lost in nature. Actually, there is a whole horde of eaters ready to strike at every easily digestible bit of food. And, after that, the animals come and eat the more difficult to digest food, until nothing is left. In addition to the grazers, pigs, birds, flies, caterpillars, butterflies, then there are the bacteria to finish the job. And so the landscape is kept clean, and here in Portugal, in the rainy season, the landscape gets its green, fresh color.
Until summer comes again, and then that same landscape dries up to a brownish yellow area, where only the thorny trees and herbs can survive, until the rain comes. And in between, I try to find my way around perceiving it. During my walk, every morning, afternoon and sometimes evening, I experience that landscape and try to experience it. I often dream away in my mind, but often I can clearly see the different shapes of the trees, shrubs, rocks and stones. Especially the latter are also on my path, and sometimes I stumble over them, if I don't pay attention. There is one rock rising above the path that I keep an eye on every time I get there. Imagine him coming down, then what? Then I get pulverized and smashed down into the river. Don't think about it, yes, just keep going.
The rocks consist of layers of slate, which break easily and can be taken apart, trees can easily grow through them with their roots. The hills consist of stone dust that has decomposed into soil and rocks that are built from the same slate. You can also clearly see those differences merge into each other. In between are some trees and shrubs, and here and there grass, which is kept short by those sheep. Then, during the summer, the sun burns on it, and in the winter the rain makes it wet again, and so the soil washes down to the river. In a few centuries the landscape here will also become flat, but there are still a few seasons in between :). From Bega the ground is fairly flat, with dips here and there. The area where I live starts in the hills and continues to the west coast. Apart from the grazing of the sheep, nature is left to itself here. The heat of the summer and the rain in the winter make the area hot and cool. Overwintering is perfect here, and if you are lucky there is a lot of sunlight, with the accompanying heat. On my walks, I regularly pass by my lake, (that's how I consider it), and walk along the river, which, overnight, can increase enormously in strength and volume, and then also the noise, where the water flows. clears a road, between trees, shrubs and rocks. After a few days I found it, dead in the grass. The intestines had already been eaten out, and flies, fat mopeds, were on her skin. Then you see that nature leaves nothing unused. I think a wild pig killed it, or a fox, they are here too. But as time went on, more and more maggots emerged from the corpse. And the pig has already eaten it a few times. Bones were eaten away, the skeleton protruded more and more clearly from the skin. The maggots too. A pig must have a strong stomach to eat both the meat, which is long overdue, and the maggots that are also in it. I can imagine that this is not a story that is pleasant on your stomach, but that is how it goes in nature. Nothing is lost.
In the meantime, the river continues to flow as usual, millions of m3 of water are on their way to the barragem, the reservoir that collects all the rainwater, to provide horticulturists, agriculture and villages with water.
The area I walk through, along the Mira River, comes from a long way, and there are even mines that use the water to wash the ore that is mined there. The area is characterized by the cork and holm oak, although many die from the heat. The holm oak is widely used for firewood. It burns for a long time and gives off considerable heat. This is how people warm themselves here, for centuries. The cork oak is for the cork, the wood is not suitable for burning. If the trees are left, only the bark remains. It can last a long time. But per square kilometer, sometimes only a few people live there. And one of them is me.
The sheep eat the grass, which is currently still rich in protein, hence the turds. Normally a sheep poops marble balls, like poo. If there is a turd in the grass, a pile of soil will be added from below. Then an animal will lay its eggs or maggots in it. Then, after a few days, the birds come to eat those eggs or maggots. They then poke out those eggs or maggots with their beaks and spread the turd in small pieces in the area where it was laid. Again nothing is lost. Then flies come to this and then lay eggs again.
So nothing is lost in nature. Actually, there is a whole horde of eaters ready to strike at every easily digestible bit of food. And, after that, the animals come and eat the more difficult to digest food, until nothing is left. In addition to the grazers, pigs, birds, flies, caterpillars, butterflies, then there are the bacteria to finish the job. And so the landscape is kept clean, and here in Portugal, in the rainy season, the landscape gets its green, fresh color. Until summer comes again, and then that same landscape dries up to a brownish yellow area, where only the thorny trees and herbs can survive, until the rain comes. And in between, I try to find my way around perceiving it. During my walk, every morning, afternoon and sometimes evening, I experience that landscape and try to experience it. I often dream away in my mind, but often I can clearly see the different shapes of the trees, shrubs, rocks and stones. Especially the latter are also on my path, and sometimes I stumble over them, if I don't pay attention. There is one rock rising above the path that I keep an eye on every time I get there. Imagine him coming down, then what? Then I get pulverized and smashed down into the river. Don't think about it, yes, just keep going.
The rocks consist of layers of slate, which break easily and can be taken apart, trees can easily grow through them with their roots. The hills consist of stone dust that has decomposed into soil and rocks that are built from the same slate. You can also clearly see those differences merge into each other. In between are some trees and shrubs, and here and there grass, which is kept short by those sheep. Then, during the summer, the sun burns on it, and in the winter the rain makes it wet again, and so the soil washes down to the river. In a few centuries the landscape here will also become flat, but there are still a few seasons in between :). From Bega the ground is fairly flat, with dips here and there. The area where I live starts in the hills and continues to the west coast. Apart from the grazing of the sheep, nature is left to itself here. The heat of the summer and the rain in the winter make the area hot and cool. Overwintering is perfect here, and if you are lucky there is a lot of sunlight, with the accompanying heat. On my walks, I regularly pass by my lake, (that's how I consider it), and walk along the river, which, overnight, can increase enormously in strength and volume, and then also the noise, where the water flows. clears a road, between trees, shrubs and rocks.The river does not run along the same route every day. When it rains more, that same river will have to choose a different route due to more volume. And every time I find that fascinating. When I am back home, safe in my hundred-year-old history house, I feel liberated from all the ups and downs that I still have. The hilly landscape is full of different shrubs, trees, herbs and grasses, of which I don't even know the name, but my eyes recognize them, and that is important to me, more than a name. Especially the last bit up the mountain , takes me less and less effort, as a plain spoiled Dutchman :).
Hendrik.
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