Tis The Season

 

Not a good season for grapes. 

Those on our vine that didn't turn into raisins were sweet but there weren't many decent bunches. 

The vineyards down in the fertile plain near us had mixed crops. Those that were well looked after, de-leafed, fertilised, watered and kept weed free had an average harvest. So they say. Everyone's an expert here and everyone knows their neighbours business better than their own. 

Making wine is hard work if you want a few hundred kilos of your own vintage to drink with friends over the winter. 

We finally stopped at the top of our road and collected half a dozen figs from the branches hanging over our neighbour's fence.  They were small and sweet.  We should have picked them earlier. There were a dozen at least squashed on the tarmac

Vaso and her son were collecting carobs from their tree one morning.

Vaso once collected carobs from all the neighborhood trees for her goats. She gathered them all, often bent double, not wanting to leave even one languishing on the ground or hanging from the tree. She then hauled the heavy sacks up the incline to her house, without breaking a sweat. 

Now it's her son who's in command. They gathered a small bag for the chickens and left the rest to rot. 

Another neighbourhood tree. 

The pomegranates are still small and unripe. I'm hoping for a bag of these in a few weeks. 

The white bougainvillia is starting to blossom .  The white flowers should bloom into November. 

Our 'new' water feature.