mud larking

when woody went off on his new adventure, I stopped walking, I’d been walking dogs for 22 years, everyday and whilst I welcomed the break, I was also utterly bereft, the dogs had often been my anchor point and salvation, and at times it was tiresome to have to walk them twice a day in rain or shine but they were true companions, all of them and Woody, being the last remaining member of my little family was incredibly hard to let go, walking without him seemed so utterly awful, I just couldn’t do it….it felt so totally weird walking without a dog. It felt futile, pointless and very upsetting, so I didn’t do it

I had already decided in Italy that I was going to take the rest of the year off, after all the Rick death stuff and renovations and adoption of Woody, I felt I needed a break from it all (in fact when I think about it, I hadn’t really had a holiday for over 12 years. I know that some people think when you move abroad you’re permanently on holiday and that’s as maybe if you haven’t got a house to build, but up until 2017 we had been building non-stop for years and then what with the fire and everything, life hadn’t exactly been a bowl of cherries), so, with the sudden passing of my mum and having to come back to the UK, I needed to do something else, limited by COVID I decided to bite the bullet and walk, I bought a coat and some boots and found an old map

I set myself little targets and then big ones until eventually I’d walked quite a lot of the Essex coastline

there’s something about this landscape that’s very alluring and compelling, it’s raw and ancient, it’s wild and rough, it’s quiet and often very still and then at times it’s noisy and very busy

walking these lands has helped me come to terms with all of my losses last year, it’s been less about scavenging in the mud and more about dropping something off, I have mumbled, shouted, laughed, cried and sung my way around, i’ve stopped to talk to anyone that will listen (such a novelty to be able to speak English), I’ve had conversations with birds, I’ve had conversations with bits of dead birds, and of course conversations with dead people, I’ve asked questions and asked for forgiveness, I’ve stomped and plodded, I’ve marched and I’ve slipped, I’ve sat and just been

some of my walks were walks that I’d been on with Rick and our dogs, so there was something very familiar about them and sometimes they were quite upsetting but then I moved into new territory and things began to shift. When I finally made it out to St Peters Chapel, my destination, I touched the walls of the chapel, said goodbye, turned round and left, I think I’d reached my destination before I’d got there, I’d got what I needed on the way round

Mourning is always complicated it’s not a straight forward process, we get hurled about in a tumble drier of regret, remorse, good memories, bad memories, memories that come back, other memories hiding, like a faded photograph that have lost their edges, you can vaguely recall things but it’s somehow stuck in time, irretrievable….all of this swirls around, at times there are moments of peace, when the machine stops and then everything starts again, going round and round, one way then the other, thoughts falling on top of each other, everything getting tangled up, shrunk and ruined and murky

there are moments in the peace when things drop into place, realisations, understandings, none of which are possible during someone’s life, it seems that only after someone you deeply cared about has passed away, in between the tears and the confusion, this is when those moments occur and that is the shitty thing about death. I would have liked to have the clarity I have now about my husband and my mother, because I could right some wrongs and just let all the other stuff go, I just wish, like hindsight that we could have those understandings when those people are still alive…….it’s almost like their last gift to us, the parting of them allows us to understand something that is bigger than us, something that is stifled by us, something that we humans do not seem to have got the hang of at all

somewhere between the glistening endless mud and the huge open skies, out there with the ancient winkle and oyster beds

in amongst the shipwrecks and lost souls, tucked away for all eternity, washing in and out with every tide, backwards and forwards in a never ending cycle of life and death, lies my grief

death bed

with the sudden and shocking passing of my mother, discovered yesterday, I woke early, having had a fitful night, I no longer know where to put all this grief, I have finally given up trying to make sense of anything and am just somehow floating through the day in a weird haze

So as soon as dawn broke

I wanted to do something special, I decided to finish the last raised bed I had made

I topped it off with old ceramic bricks that came from my roof, I dug it over, I watered it, I scattered some of Rick’s ashes in there, with every allium bulb I planted I thought of both my mum and my husband, I know it may seem macabre but I have lovingly called it my death bed

When I went back a few hours later there were two tiny pale blue butterflies playing above it, so magical, so special, blue was my mum’s favourite colour in the garden (and mine)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w0De7AuhKm8&feature=youtu.be

 

one lost, two gained

two amazing things have happened since Rick’s death

One is Peach

And the other is Dave

Peach was a very old friend of Rick’s, not always in his life, but he was at the end, they talked about bikes

Dave is a very old friend of mine, having spent some of our youth together, he was also very close to Rick, they worked together when Rick and I first met, they canoed a lot together

When Rick died they both made contact with me

They have both done something that you could only wish for, they have both stepped up to the plate, they have done what any self respecting man would do, they’ve pulled out all the stops to help me sort myself out in the most practical of ways

Peach supported me on-line through the building of the garden, always there to support me and advise me and encourage me forwards. He gave me a huge amount of his skilled time whilst I was in the UK to sort out my rental recently, he completely re-decorated the house, inside and out

arriving every morning with a huge hug, telling me stories, making me laugh and leaving with a huge hug at night. He will be a friend for life

Dave converted a van and left the UK after lock-down to come and dog sit whilst I went back to the UK

I hadn’t seen or spoken to Dave for nearly 20 years and from the moment he arrived, it was as if we’d only seen each other yesterday, we have both had a very difficult few years with little to laugh about, Dave has made me laugh so much I have nearly wet myself several times and that is what it is all about……….being with someone that can lift your spirits so high that you forget everything shitty and nearly wetting yourself with laughter is the ultimate goal in my opinion……

Dave’s other goal in coming to Italy other than cheering me up, was to get me ready for winter

he rebuilt my hearth and we got the wood burner in

He chopped all my firewood

the only safety boots available were Rick’s old motocross boots, Dave had to wear his slippers inside the boots to make them fit!!!

Dave taught me how to use tools properly, we made an apple crate kitchen

Dave stayed longer than anticipated because he wanted to see Woody off and hold my hand as he went

Dave left this morning having made new friends here in Italy, he had a great time, I learnt a lot about many things and have had my spirits restored

I now have two brilliant men in my life, if Rick’s death has an upside, this is it……..

counting blessings

I left my bubble this weekend, which was terrifying and necessary

I went to Tuscany to visit some very dear friends, I ate some amazing food

walked miles, talked the hind legs off several donkeys, hugged friends and strangers, basked in the sun, admired the amazing views

we took part in an online “how to make gnocchi” course

which was bloody funny and utterly disastrous, but Bella pulled it out the bag at the end and turned the whole thing into a delicious omelette (minus the snotty gnocchi)

whilst sitting on top of a mountain with a group of strangers, amongst the stones and earth, listening to an explanation of the how’s and why’s of grafting grapes and the necessity to grow bio-dynamically and the vision one man has for the future of wine

I realised that the dreams we have for our own futures are not always logical or even sensible but what is clear is if we are honest with ourselves we can do the most extraordinary things…….this is something that I most admired about Rick and his crazy idea’s

seemingly coming out of nowhere and to anyone else completely impossible and bonkers, but with the right amount of determination, anything is possible, because when we focus and follow our hearts, there is an energy that becomes available to us that is not something we can control, it comes from elsewhere….

After many conversations about death and life and the after life and what happens to us when we leave, I do know that all of us are connected to everything, we are everywhere and the longer we disconnect ourselves from each other and nature the worse it will become

so, get out there, get your hands dirty, do something that terrifies you, hug a stranger, eat something you have never eaten before, have a dream that is beyond you’re wildest fantasy, do something for someone with no strings attached, give stuff away, be grateful for everything you have and above all, just try to be nice to each other because you just never know what is going to happen and how much you might wish you had done things differently……….

raising hopes and beds

The original garden was a useable space but with terrible soil and a bit of a slope towards the road with a cedar at the end, the tree blocked the view from the balcony upstairs and it was hanging on the main electricity cable for the whole street, so it had to come down

Rick got the saw mill out and sliced it up with the idea that it would be used for stairs in the house..unfortunately with his passing that is not going to happen so I am gifting it to a friend who is going to make some furniture with it

Rick had started the raised bed project after I left, dug foundations, moved a lot of heavy clay and started some of the block work

I was totally overwhelmed when I arrived back, and kept looking at all the sacks of sand and stone and the unfinished raised beds (which sort of resembled giant graves) and mountains of clay in the garden and just couldn’t contemplate doing any of it, let alone completing it

having gone through an enormous range of emotions relating to Rick’s death, I’ve now had a moment to breathe and evaluate my situation, I have decided that Italy will be where I stay for the time being, after all I bought this house because I loved it, it’s where all my things are, it’s where I last shared a meal with Rick and for a brief moment it was the place that gave us both hope for the future, a common goal and a roof over our heads……

With a lot of encouragement from new friends and old, I decided to finish the project myself, I know I lived with a builder for 24 years but I never did any actual building, but I thought, how hard can it be????

I finished bed 2

I needed to cut some of the blocks but am terrified of spinning blades and electricity, it took me a few days of various consultations with men friends, some plucking up of courage and remembering what Rick would say…….Just do it Doris….I did

With bed 2 finished, I decided to waterproof the insides of the beds, and then back fill with various bits of hardcore lying around, including the old toilet and sink, prunings, ash from the fire, manure from a friend and the soil that had come out of the foundations and some bought compost

I levelled off the area between both the beds and made some steps. I used some of Rick’s old burnt chisels and files as supports, got rid of a bag of gone off cement, mixed with sand and the last of the stones

I had to put an extra course on half of bed one, because the ground level at the front of the bed was the same height as the bed and it looked all wrong…

A friend donated some lovely old bricks for me to finish off the tops of both beds

The foundations were already in for the third raised bed and just about enough blocks for 3 courses, so I did that too

I painted everything white, planted all the plants I’d been growing in my tiny propogator, sowed a lot of seed

laid a very wonky beginnings of a patio with some other found bricks

bought some bark chippings

and today I have picked my first radish…..

I have to say without sounding too boasty I am rather pleased with myself, I had a vision, Rick saw it too he started it, I am finishing it

Even with him gone, we still make a good team

I look like a midget but I'm not, he was very big

(Photo taken in 2009 after first potato harvest in Portugal)

I’ve got my zest(er) back

I’m in Italy, in a tiny house with a tiny garden, in the middle of a tiny village, surrounded by stunning countryside, friendly people and delicisousness in the bushes and in the shops (when we are allowed to go to them)!!!

I’ve started replacing all the wonderful things I had, one thing that I was very upset about was the loss of my microplane, I know it’s easy to replace, but it wasn’t just about replacing things and filling my life up again

I had been fundamentally changed by the fire, so I didn’t really want to cook much anymore, I did kind of get into it last autumn, when we arrived in Italy and spent days foraging and making sloe cheese, quince everything and figgy stuff

which I loved, but then I lost the desire again with the breakdown of my marriage and the subsequent, sudden death of my husband…….

I’ve been in Italy since lockdown, organising what has fondly become known as “Italy death bollox” and whilst I was appreciating being here, in a remote and beautiful country, I still had no desire to cook much. let alone forage………

It’s been a long time since I lived anywhere where there were any hedgerows, and it’s a wonderful thing, there’s so much diversity here, you don’t even have to look very hard, you just have to have the right eyes in, a bit like mushroom hunting, once you tune into your environment a multitude of abundance reveals itself…..

What’s nice about foraging is the chance to just stop and admire what is growing out there, the countryside is rife with life, identifying it and making it into something is therapeutic not to mention practical, what’s even better is that when you crack open a jar of something, from whatever season it came from, you are instantly reminded of that time, the picking of it, the light, the sounds, the winding down of the days, the changing of the seasons, this is one of the most evocative things about growing, preserving and making, it’s a reminder that the simple things are the best, it’s the time that you were most calm and happy and grateful, to just be with nature and give thanks by turning her gifts into a culinary delight, elderflower cordial heralds the beginning of a new season for me, a season of abundance, after the quiet time of winter in the hedgerows, it’s a new start, a fresh start with a fresh drink to whet the appetite and forge ahead with a new strength and vigour and determination……..here we go again!!!

the next chapter

the time has come to move on……the farm, which was our home, is now up for sale.

this magical place has been here for us to restore our spirits in the wake of such tragedy, but now it needs some fresh hands and fresh hearts

We are hoping that the new caretakers will love it as much as we have and see all the potential it has to offer

The farm is made up of 3.5 hectares in total, consisting of 3 flat meadows, pine forest, chestnut woodland, 2 olive groves (more than 80 olive trees), a river, spring head and levada system, 100m bore hole and water mine, and a 100+sqm registered building plot

In the meadows, we variously planted all the things that went to towards our self sufficient life, some of them in large quantities like potatoes, wheat, corn, onions and garlic, squashes and soya beans just to name a few.

Where once our house stood, is a registered 100+sqm footprint building plot, with access from the tarmac roadThe building site on the farm is south facing making it perfect for solar gain, we previously had solar power and a solar water set up

The meadows are planted with fruit trees (plum, apple, cherry, peach, pomegranate and almonds), there are some very old fig trees dotted around, a nespera and a persimmon

The top fruit orchard is planted with loganberries and tayberries, all the meadows are also planted with a mixture of black locust, oaks and elder

The middle meadow is an established garden with herbs, comfrey, perennials and more fruit trees and kiwis, there is easy access down to the meadows either via slopes for machinery or steps

The woodlands, and pine forest (which once provided the main material for the construction of the house) and the olives all suffered from the fires in 2017, they are all coming back, the olives have been carefully pruned and looked after and are thriving, they will produce oil in a couple of years. although, the forest and woodland are returning, they are ripe for a permaculture/re-forestation project

The farm comes with a ready to move in to, newly decorated caravan, it easily sleeps 2 people. it has an oven and gas hob and gas fridge, lots of worktops and a tonne of cupboard space. a lounge area with table, lots of windows, all powered by it’s own solar system which is included in the price, we will also donate two extra solar panels and a hot water solar panel

the outdoor space around the caravan has an outdoor sink area and an outdoor camp style bathroom. the farm comes with 2 IBC tanks and a pump and control box for the borehole

There is a small newly built battery house, for the solar system and storage

The farm is in a very quiet valley, on a tarmac road with easy access to the caravan/building site. Mains water has recently been piped in along the road and will be turned on in 2020, a small request to the local council will allow you to have access to mains water, once it has been turned on.

The village of Benfeita (which has just received it’s green flag as an eco village) is a 5 minute walk away with it’s wonderful river beach and cafe, post office and shop, not to mention the thriving community of young and industrious people

The nearest town is Coja, which has a school, medical centre, shops, bank and a post office, it is a 10 minute drive away, it has a monthly market and a river beach and laundarette….and a lot of other events throughout the year, the bigger towns of Arganil, Tabua and Oliveira do Hospital are all 30-40 minutes away, Coimbra, with train connections to major cities is 45 minutes away. the nearest airports are Lisbon and Porto, both 2+ hours drive away.

Feel free to peruse the blog, that shows our whole adventure here from start to finish, it’s been an amazing journey

the farm is for sale for €55,000

if you are interested in the farm, please feel free to email me with questions

baby steps

The journey since the fire has been excruciating and difficult for both us…….we’ve done the journeying separately and together. Circumstances dictated that I return to the land and that he didn’t. I couldn’t turn my back on the one place that had afforded us so much hope and joy, in the wake of the fire, when all seemed utterly lost and broken, clinging to the one thing that had given both of us so much pleasure and pain was my only option, but not his. His reasons for not returning were complicated, mine were more simplistic.

Since returning to the land I  have :

had remains of house removed, upsetting

sold scrap metal (twice, long story), boring

had new driveway made from old house, expensive

bought a caravan, weird and exciting

had caravan moved to site of burnt house, macabre

had metal structure built over caravan from burnt crap and some new crap, resourceful

had battery house built, and solar stuff bought and installed, deja vu

had grape wires and posts replaced, expensive

had over 80 olive trees pruned or chopped down, distressing and hard work

had a chunk of burnt forest removed, relief

painted the crap out of the caravan, exhausting but satisfying

removed loads of stuff from caravan, freeing

had bore hole pump fixed, strenuous and mucky

had running water plumbed into outdoor sink, luxurious

made myself a loo, with an old chair, a Leatherman and a rusty saw, awesome

enjoyed the cowboy shower, familiar

In between all this, I’ve nurtured the gardens

Planted new trees

Saved some flower seeds

had the world’s smallest wood burner installed, very very necessary

Completing all this has given me such a huge sense of achievement, creating an almost instant home, a place to lick my wounds was utterly necessary, siting it where I have was almost like a calling, one that I could not ignore

I have hope again, hope where there was none, a feeling that I never, ever want to feel again
It has filled my heart with joy, to see the land restore itself, hear the river running, listen to the buzzards playing, the owls calling at night all the sounds that were so familiar to me, the sounds that told me I was home, the sounds that gave me comfort and held me when nothing else could.
This is a place that welcomes me, enriches me and anchors me….the process is almost complete, it’s job almost done, it’s nearly time to move on, the shortening of the days offers time to rest and reflect, the dawning of the next chapter will emerge as the sun starts to rise in the sky and the days are no longer dark……

 

attachments

As the enormity of what’s happened starts to sink in, I’ve realised that I have less stuff now than when I left home at 17, the only difference is that I have a husband and two dogs, oh and some vehicles

Last year my best friend, a friend I had had for 34 years suddenly stopped communicating with me, whilst there may have been a myriad of reasons, it was hard to not take it personally, the grief and anger I had, overwhelmed me at times and ate away at me, the realisation that I would never have such a friendship again, it was 34 years worth of friendship, marriages, births, deaths, breakdowns and of course laughter, joy and all the other stuff of life…….

I realised that I would never have a friendship like that again, I don’t have enough time in front of me to formulate it….well I may have but I doubt very much that I will…….I learnt valuable lessons about myself and how much I had invested in something that could so easily be thrown or taken away…it was a hard lesson to learn

I can’t compare the loss of that friendship with the loss of a house, but the feelings are the same…..and I’m guessing the lessons are the same too……the attachments I had to my things, the things that I had collected from all over the world

the fabrics that I had dragged across Central and North America, literally on my back, overland, the amazing tin collection that had taken me since I was 17 to amass, mostly priceless and very rare…none of it I can or will ever have again, I can’t possibly conceive of starting it all again, so I won’t…it’s only stuff, it didn’t really matter, the attachment I had to it was probably unhealthy and to be honest I hardly ever looked at the tin collection, it never came out of it’s boxes and the fabrics I was too sentimental about to ever cut up of turn into something else…all a bit like a museum of my life….very Miss Haversham…..a bit depressing in a way

I think, on some level we would all like to be able to let go of something, but whilst that “something” is still in front of us or in existence, we can practice it and some may even achieve it, some pay a fortune for it, spending years meditating or living some kind of monastic life but do we ever really “let go”. It takes a certain kind of honesty to admit that a) you may have an attachment and then b) to admit that you haven’t really let go. This event has given me the opportunity to grow and understand in a way that obviously no-one would want, but it has happened and there’s nothing anyone can do about it, accepting it and learning from it, asking better questions and doing things differently is all that is required

so, here we go again

ourlifehandmade part two, stay tuned

falling or flying, the choice is yours

this latest experience (so far) has shown us who we really are and what we are capable of, the stuff we have inside, that can’t be incinerated by fires, or frozen solid by extreme cold

or swept away by flooding and landslides,  eaten up by earthquakes or consumed by erupting volcanoes…all of which we have experienced and seen

we can either use those resources we have inside to climb back up and crack on or allow the situation to take over and sink deeper into a pit of despair and misery……

we know what we are choosing……..

life

ourlifehandmade