Walk This Way

(What can I say?  I grew up in Boston, and I couldn't think of a more appropriate title for a blog post about a walkway than an Aerosmith song...)

If there is one good thing that came out of breaking my back this spring, it was having enough time on my hands to finally plan out our front walkway.

Tah-dah!

Itn't it purty?  The stones are irregular and look almost like the slate from my native New England, but they are actually granite from this area.  Yes, those are real railroad ties bordering the walkway.  Many of them were found on our property when we bought it, so I figured that, since the toxins have been leaching out anyway, we might as well make it look pretty. 

By the front gate, there is now lots of cleaning and planting to do...

... but I think the bed to the right of the walkway is starting to look pretty spiffy 

(sage, thyme, abelia, ivy and Abraham Darby rose).

As you can see from the black tube in the photo above these lines, we still need to find some outdoor lighting that we actually like (which is no small task).

Along the sides of this part of the walkway that leads to the side of the house and kitchen porch, The Pilgrim rose (left) and Benjamin Britten (right) are just begging for an arbor, don't you think?

This is a photo of the same walkway, taken in the opposite direction, 

with Benjamin Britten reaching out over the path, and Lady Emma Hamilton below.

Luna still thinks this is her own private jungle.  Lavender seems to be her favorite plant.

So, come on in and walk this way... or run, if you please!

Spaghetti

Living where we do, in a rural area near a reservoir with lots of wide-open countryside and rabbits to boot, we often come across stray dogs.  My heart goes out to each and every one of them, and I have often given them food and water, but I have never taken any home.  With two kids, a dog and a cat, I have to put their well-being first.

But, Spaghetti was different.  The children in town named this dark-brindle greyhound Spaghetti because of her thin tail, and they had seen her near school at recess time and in the park in the afternoons.  She stayed close, but never got too close.  She was obviously used to kids and being around people, looking for scraps at local restaurants.  A small group of us decided we should try to catch her to see if she was micro-chipped.

In the end, she was not, and I took her home because my yard is fenced in.  Hunting season starts this week, and it is a dangerous time of year for animals to be loose.  We got in touch with a greyhound protection association, and my husband took her over this past Saturday.  She cried, and so did my heart.

I feel bad that this sweet, eager-to-please animal was lost, and I feel horrible that there may be some children out there missing her.  But what I cannot forgive is some owners who did not care enough for their pet to micro-chip her.  In Spain, micro-chipping is the law, and you cannot get a rabies shot for your pets without a microchip and pet passport, at least not from a reputable vet.

In two weeks time, Spaghetti will be sent to a new family in Belgium (there is an association there that plays to people's heartstrings by telling them that Spaniards torture their greyhounds http://www.greyhoundsinnood.be/en, but that's a story for another day), so perhaps she will be re-named Noedel.  Either way, she will be dearly missed.

My Midlife Crisis

Yes, I'll admit it.  I am in the middle of a midlife crisis.  My kids are older and no longer need me (as much), and certain life events have made me want to step on the brakes and say "Whoa, not so fast!".

Sounds strange, though, doesn't it?  It seems that men are expected to experience midlife crises, but you don't see too many women running out and buying fire-engine-red European sports cars (especially in Europe!).  I, being a simple country girl at heart, have no need for a 500 horsepower Italian convertible, so I settled for the power of just one chestnut 18-hand Holsteiner. 

Isn't he beautiful?

My husband gave me my dream horse, Canterbury, on April 1.  Bliss was mine for 21 days, but on April 22 the horse spooked when an animal moved in the long spring grass, and I was thrown.  I landed on my back and broke several vertebral apophyses in my spine as well as a rib.  After two months of wearing a back brace, including 3 weeks of not being able to lie down in bed, and lots of pilates, my body is now almost healed.  My mind, however, is a different matter.  My horse is gone, and I now have some mental hurdles to deal with.

Thus continues my midlife crisis... 

... although I'm sure some serious rose therapy will do just the trick!

A Golden Celebration

This post is in honor of my parents-in-law, Pilar and Antonio, on their golden anniversary.  They were married 50 years ago today in Madrid.  What better way to celebrate than with some Golden Celebration roses?

 

 

 

 

 ¡Felicidades, Antonio y Pilar!

Wisteria Lane

No, I'm not a Desperate Housewife (although, now that you mention it, Marcia Cross and I did grow up in the same hometown!).  It's just that, at this time of the year, the wisterias on our road are simply breathtaking.

First up is my neighbor José Luis's house.  This purple glicinia is about 8 years old.  The initial flush of color along his front wall in April is traffic-stopping (literally), and there is another more discrete bloom in the summer.

Can you smell it? 

The plumes of flowers were humming with bees.

 Can you spot one in this photo?

Ah, there he is!

The next stop on our wisteria tour is my neighbor Julieta's house (love her name, and her house!).  This is a 4-year-old white wisteria growing over a carport, and it's its first bloom ever (wisterias usually take 5 years to bloom like this).

So, where is my contribution to all ths wisteria-ness?  My humble participant is just one year old, but already has a fan.

Skiing in Valle de Benasque

We took the boys skiing a couple of weeks ago, and I still haven't got all the gear and suitcases put away.  Heck, if we're going to be honest, I still haven't put away our Christmas tree yet, either (it's in its box, hiding behind the sofa).  Embarrassing.

Anyway, it's hard not to take great photos of such beautiful scenery...

This was the view from our mountain-side hotel.

On the slopes in Cerler.

             

A true New Englander, I had forgotten how much I loved icicles. 

It took great will-power not to grab one to suck on like a kid.

 Believe it or not, this photo was a drive-by. Love the stone houses with slate roofs.

Those bloomin' almond trees!

With all the rain and wind we had in February, our almond trees in LaMancha are blooming much later this year than usual.  I am particularly fond of almond blossoms because they remind me of the apple blossoms of my native New England (which I haven't seen in more than 20 years!).  Our area of LaMancha is famous for making marzipan, and almond trees grow wild everywhere. 

    This quaint dirt road is on our way to school.

 Down by the reservoir

Up near the center of town

  When you get close enough, their scent is incredible.

Some are even pink enough to look like cherry trees. 

These ones are giving the olive trees a run for their money.

 Baby almond trees in my garden