El Huerto

Wow. Thank you so much to everyone for letting us know you´re out there. Sorry it´s been a good few weeks since we´ve posted. Internet time is scarce. Since we left Barcelona we´ve been living la vida del pueblo and life is good.

We set off for northern Spain to a small pueblo called Aguinaliu. If you look on the map you won´t see it but you will see a small town called Huesca. It´s kind of close to there but muy muy poquito. From the terrace of the house we can see the Pyrenees mountains snow covered and demanding of several glances on a clear day. The air is dry but frigid and the smell of burning wood from a few casitas wafts into our nostrils. Not much is happening in the pueblo because it was abandoned a long time ago. Only 15 people live there and a poster from 1970 indicated that year may have been when people were forced out. There are an unbelievable number of abandoned pueblos in Spain. The house we live in is at the very top of the hill and we have to climb it twice a day to go home for lunch as well as after the days work is done. We live with Mario a Mexican Buddist Carpenter, Lucas a French Briton Fiddler, a 14 year old dog named Mora and a frisky over grown kitty named Huero. We exist off the fruits of labor from el huerto. Very little is bought from the market. Hopefully our work helps to produce more fruit.

On our first day at work Syl and I jumped in a water trough 7 feet deep to scoop out frozen green ¨sardine¨ water. In our rubber water proof boots we scooped for 4 hours. We did break for tea in the garden with Mateo and Lucas. I´m telling you life is good you all. Syl and I sang old school R&B trying to keep warm and forget about the smell. This was part of our first big project to set up drip irrigation for the garden.

Everyday we work in ¨el huerto¨ getting things ready for permament agriculture. Making seed beds, Mateo is built like a Chevy truck so he hauls the majority of dirt out of the earth while Syl and I swat never ending swarms of knats and mosquitos between every few shovels of dirt. We had previously been exiled to the evergreen forest to sing our songs and collect rich soil for planting. Then I opened my mouth and said I wanted hard work to do. A ten minute walk up the hill in the evening now takes us 20 aching, deep breathing minutes with Mora turning around every few meters to check on us and then walk back down the hill to encourage Syl to make it up.

Mora is really good to us and one day we ended up 8 miles away from home with her. She followed us out of the pueblo and went all the way to town with us. It´s a 6 hour round trip and she walked the entire way then waited outside of each store for us. She´s a small black dog with a greyish white beard showing her old age. She is very fit for her age and we looked like Lucy and Ethel trying to keep this dog from getting hit on the highway, but wouldn´t you know she got us a ride home on the way back. Mora is a dog from the campo so lots of people know her. Our 6 hour round trip was cut to 4 hours and we were glad Mora had refused to go home when we tried to make her. She goes to work with us every morning and walks us up the hill every afternoon. Morita es viejita pobrecita! 3 weeks in Aguinaliu is not nearly enough time to enjoy this place but hopefully we can return.

Hasta Luego
Joronda