Archive | February 2017

Gardening in Portugal – The Cats That Walked By Themselves



Subordinate Cat

I am going to tell you about my cats.  I consider them very important members of my gardening team as  I wouldn’t have thought of having chickens without them.

Subordinate Cat in full camouflauge

Because  he loves me, Señor Faztudo  tolerates the chickens, as long as they stay in their half of the garden, although he says we should re-name that part of the garden “Poo corner”  But what about the cats? Why have we got them? I suppose the answer to that, is that he dislikes  mice and rats – a lot. We lived in a terraced house in London and once, the cellar was overrun by mice after some building works next door. We still shudder to think of it , as we had to really fight back to get rid of them. And there is a carob processing plant in the village, which is why no one minds the feral cats we have hereabouts, they do a very important job.

A  friend of ours who worked in cat rescue  found a nearby farm-house with  two kittens living in the barn, needing a home. I wanted females as they are better mousers, in my experience and two little balls of very frightened fluff arrived.  The condition of their adoption was that we had them spayed,and vaccinated which we, of course agreed to.

On their arrival, we immediately had the problem that Señor Faztudo didn’t want them in the house, so I made them a warm bed in the cellar. However, it became clear in a very short time it  was cruel to leave such young kittens alone and so they were brought into the house under sufferance, where a dark box in the warm kitchen soothed their initial fears. But feral kittens are taught to hide in the day  by their mothers and somehow on the second day, the smallest kitten disappeared completely and was nowhere to be found. I thought it may have crawled up the central hoovering system and was in a terrible panic when the other kitten also did a disappearing act! Two hours later I had pulled out every box from every cupboard, shouted “kitty kitty” down the central hoover conduit until I was hoarse and taken the washing machine apart. Zilch…nada….

A little while later, I was on the loo and suddenly an awful smell began to attract my attention. Worried that there may have been  something badly wrong with me, I suddenly heard a pitiful mewling and both kittens emerged from behind the bidet covered in poo.  Panicking and to hide the fact that the cats had done the terrible-awful behind the bidet I scooped them up in one of my best hand towels  and washed the poor little things under the bidet. All of Senor F’s worst nightmares were happening at once! Bedraggled, but none the worse, the kittens went back in their box and so their lives with us began.

Boss cat up the ladder

The kittens entertained us mightily  for the next six weeks, but Señor F held firm in his resolve that they would be outside cats and actually, I agreed with him. Both our previous London cats had lived outside, and were very healthy for it. They always had a warm bed in the shed, were fed a good quality meal once a day and did  a great job keeping rats and mice out of the garden. And there is the added advantage  of not bringing ticks and fleas into the house with is an inevitable by product of having animals, even with treatments. The key thing is to feed them at the same time every night, and let them in the house, just for their meal, so they know where they belong. And  of course, if they hate it, they are at liberty to go and live elsewhere (which in fact, one of our cats in London did, at the age of eight, but that’s another story)

Little by little our kittens grew and Señor F tolerated them swinging on his trouser leg, dashing in and out of paper sacks and cardboard boxes and scratching the sofa to death, with good grace. After a while, they began to venture outside and get used to their surroundings. I’ll call them Boss Cat, the white one and Subordinate cat, the tri-coloured one,  to protect their anonymity. One day, Boss Cat didn’t come home at night. I was distraught and feared she had been eaten by something, a fear which was made worse by venturing into the garden and shining a torch into the tree to see dozens of pairs of eyes of something! I hoped they were feral cats who would look after a kitten, but I went to bed in tears. The next morning  there she was at the door, bright as a button and none the worse for her adventure, although she didn’t do that again for quite a while.


Over  the next few months the kittens  became more and more adventurous, only returning to the house in the evening. At first, like all young things they had their ups and downs. Subordinate  cat ate a black gecko and had a very sore throat for a few days. Boss cat got beaten up by a huge Tom, despite being spayed and was very wobbly for a while. Subordinate cat got her foot caught in a rabbit snare and it was red raw…she must have been released by the farmer, but it healed. All of this was worrying, of course, but I tried to accept it as an inevitable part of their freedom and we were always on hand to take them to the vet if they needed treatment. Every night I fed them a meal at the same time, so I could keep an eye on them and they have nearly always come home and always a few days later if they have gone roaming.


For their part, they have done their job well. Despite having chickens and vegetables growing in my garden, I have never seen a rat or mouse unless it was dead and in the process of being consumed. The downside is occasionally they eat lovely birds, the saddest was a green woodpecker baby. Boss Cat once fell in the pool swiping at a swallow, to her great surprise and found quite quickly, she could swim! And I once found quite a large snake on the mat, playing dead. I picked up up on a stick and it sprang to life, quite crossly. At the point I could only say I was glad the cats don’t live indoors!  They have a bed each in the porch and occasionally on a winter’s night I can be seen furtively slipping a hot water bottle in their beds, although with the thick coats they have, I doubt if they really need it. If  Señor were to see me he’d say ” you’re turning those cats into wusses!”  They have lived with us for four years now and have learned wily ways to cope with their surroundings. They don’t even eat my newly hatched chicks and I like to think they know they are “family” but sit on top of the coop as though guarding them from other cats. I love to see them about the garden enjoying their independence, although I also feel honoured  when they come and sit on my lap and watch the chickens with me from the hippy shed. I would have more if I could, but Señor F says two is plenty to take responsibilty for and, as usual, there is some sense in that!


Gardening in Portugal- The Gifts in my Garden

“She breathes in dirt and exhales flowers” (Unknown author, but I love that quote)


It seems strange, but for the past four years  of building this garden, I haven’t had much time to concentrate on the plants. I do have a quite lot of plants now, but the garden is big and the plants are still small and sometimes it’s hard to even realise they are there!  Although  I have a fairly well developed idea of how I want the garden to be planted and I have already different “zones” we have been spending our limited resources on finishing terraces, garden buildings and hard landscaping, and haven’t really focused on what is growing in the garden. I have just poked plants in here and there in the general  position I want them to grow and hoped for the best whilst I concentrate on improving the soil, finishing off the structures and grow a little food.


With this in mind, I went out in the garden yesterday with my roses coloured glasses on. I wanted to take a fresh look at the  plants I already have in the garden, the plants I need and perhaps even more importantly, the plants I desire!
As I looked around, and focused in on what was actually growing, I felt a huge debt of gratitude, as I realised most of the plants in my garden have been given to me. Here a delicious pot of spiky aloes, which I don’t even know the names of, given to me by a friend with a wonderful collection, there a beautiful camellia or a hibiscus. Many roses, given to me as cuttings by dear neighbours and friends, even some sent in the post from France by my sister in law. Wild flowers growing from seeds plucked from the waysides by my Portuguese teacher, who knows so much about their origins and medicinal uses, Absinthe (Artemisia absinthium) and Tansy (Tanacetum vulgare) grown from donated cuttings and Lippia Alba, common name here, Cida, a plant used for tea by someone who thrust a whole pot of rooted cuttings into my hand at the Seed and Plant exchange in the Autumn. During a time when the world seems to be getting more insular and less friendly,  my emerging garden is bright with the generosity and good heartedness of fellow plant lovers and gardeners.  I’ve been donated beautiful pots too and even tools. I’ve been given furniture and decorations for my hippy shed, which I enjoy with much pleasure as I sit there. To help build my lasagna beds I have received coffee grounds collected from the local cafe, newspapers, leaves, horse manure and even shredded bank statements which were great added great benefit to my sludgy compost! Even  some of my chickens are presents. I am humbled by the generosity of so many people as I walk around the garden. People are so kind.

Looking at different pats of the garden, , I realise already have a good collection of succulents, a wide range of aromatic plants, including several types of lavender and rosemary, cistus and phlomis, thymes  and salvias, some ornamentals including hibiscus, oleander, plumbago, Ceanothus, a rose collection, many of then unnamed and grasses and irises, both winter and summer.

I also have a few tender and beautiful pot plants, a camellia, a holly fern,(Cyrtomium falcatum), a couple of  frangipanis (Plumeria) and some lilies. I’d like more decorative and unusual plants , but the care they need will make them plants for some time in the future, once I have the greenhouse and can care for them better(  Señor Faztudo is still hammering away in the garage, as I write) Pouco a Pouco, as they say here!

So that’s more or less what is emerging,  not including all the food plants and trees. What do I need? I need more drought resistant, chicken proof plants, to fill in the spaces, nepetas, other species of cistus, euphorbias, varieties of iris, maybe more grasses. I need some pyracantha to make my chicken corner more impenetrable to predators. I need more Dutch irises…you can never have too many Dutch irises! 

But what do I desire? Ah now…there’s a thought! I desire a moringa  tree.(Moringa oleifera-my sister gave me some seeds but I can’t find them anywhere!) I desire all the aromatics in the world. I desire a bigger collection of aloes as I’ve fallen passionately and hopelessly in love with the spikey fellows. I desire stinging nettles growing just where I want them to grow and comfrey so I can use it to feed my vegetables. I want celandines and poppies and borage, but do they want me?  I crave a rhubarb plant but I don’t think that’s going to happen. I almost desire more space….no wait!  A gardener’s greed knows no bounds, but it’s a happy greed. It doesn’t kill you with calories or pollute your lungs, it just soothes your heart and soul and keeps you fit. My plants reward my time with them and the more whole I become and the more healed I am from the mad hurry of city life,  the better they grow.

Gardening in Portugal: Fowl play!


One of my fowls

This is a  fowl post. Fowl is a lovely old fashioned word you don’t hear much any more, people are more likely to call their chicken “chooks” nowadays, which I think is a term that originated in the States.  In my youth, in the Forest of Dean, everyone called their chickens “fowls” and I think my fascination for them is rooted in collecting eggs from a straw nesting box at a friend’s house and going back to the kitchen to eat them for breakfast. It seemed like a magic thing then and it still does now. I’m not sure they taste all that different from the eggs in the supermarket, to be honest, but the yolks are a deep yellow  and I  know where they’ve been, so to speak!  I am a relatively new chicken keeper, only having chickens for the four years I’ve been here. Chicken is a very important part of  the Portuguese diet. It’s  so important that there are different words for different types. This can also cause some confusion to both chef and chicken keeper alike. You can still buy live chickens in the markets here, although I haven’t done that yet, preferring to buy mine from a local agricultural store, where, to me, they seem less stressed. At the moment, you couldn’t buy a chicken in the market at all, as they have found bird flu in a heron in the Algarve and the movement of birds is restricted for 50 miles around where the sick bird was found.


The big girls

Last  Autumn, I bought four young birds from the agricultural store. They were “poedeiras” or hens on the and point of lay, in the Uk we would call them pullets. Two of them were speckled brown and two were white. These brown ones are mixed , dual purpose hens, and good layers, however, the white ones are usually bought for fattening for meat. They are bred for the speed in which they fatten up and not really meant to be kept as they get too fat and don’t function very well as layers.They are very greedy birds. But quite docile and pleasant in nature. I didn’t know they were meat birds when I bought them though. I quickly realised my mistake, as my two white birds grew to almost the size of turkeys. They waddle around and don’t lay very well, quite often producing a soft shelled egg. One of the birds is an especially hopeless case. She is so big, she can’t clean herself very well and so she looks very mucky. I had to give her a bath the other day and trim her bottom feathers and she lumbers about looking quite sorry for herself with a red bottom and dishevelled feathers. I am a failed chicken keeper…5 cockerels, all crowing their heads off who should be in the pot by now, and a bird with special needs who needs nursing care. I’ve got to give myself a firm talking to and deal with my growing cockerel problem!


My big fat hen

Chickens bred for laying eggs are called “Gallinhas” and those young chickens bred for eating are called “Frangos”  Cockerels are called “Gallos” If you want to buy a freerange chicken in the supermarket you can buy a “Frango de Campo” but these are more for stewing than roasting  as they are older birds and very delicious they are too!  Roasting of chicken is rarely done , at least in my part of Portugal, chicken is either barbecued or stewed. Chicks are called “Pintos”


Young cockerel 2

Anyway, I digress. My exciting news about chickens is that I have a clutch of new arrivals, hatched last Wednesday! You may remember early disasters with trying to successfully brood chicks using a broody hen.  So far I have had an exploding egg, infertile eggs, a raid by other jealous chickens on the poor bantam broody, a trampled chick and various other mishaps, mostly caused by my interference. I have felt like a bungling murder at times! I have had two broods already, but they were only two chicks each time. And all boys. Beautiful  boys none the less, but more than two cockerels, one little and one large so they don’t fight, becomes unmanageable for me and the hens. So much drama! Especially when Spring arrives and the testosterone  kicks in.


Young cockerel no 3

However, under the guidance of an experienced chicken keeper and friend, I have learned a great deal about the process of successfully hatching chicks. I have learnt the importance of having a safe separate area for the broody, to leave her to do her job which she can ably do without me, how to keep chicks healthy and warm in the early weeks and above all NOT to keep fussing and peeping during the hatch. So this time she hatched nine eggs out of ten! One died straight away, I found it squashed, poor thing and chucked unceremoniously out of the nest along with the egg shells from the others. I buried it in the compost heap with a little prayer and hope it will be reborn as a succulent tomato.  I lost a second through my own stupidity. It got out of the crate where its mum was and couldn’t get back in and died of cold. I found it’s stiff  little body in the morning and shed a tear. There is nothing sadder than a new born creature  which didn’t make it. I felt terrible and consigned it to the compost to the company of its squashed brother or sister. I rigged up a flowerpot candle heater since there is no electricity where the chickens are and it has been very cold and now all  the chicks now look very happy and healthy.


Chicks and their mum

So now, I’m the proud keeper of 19 birds. 6 big girls and their cockerel, 4 young bantam  cockerels all strutting around, a bantam broody and seven chickens, of indeterminate sex and not all bantams as I slipped some eggs from the big girls under the broody when she wasn’t looking.

I have a plan to have two small flocks, five or six bantam hens with a cockerel and the same with the big hens. The bantams are wilder and go broody more often, but are less destructive in the garden and very good foragers. The big girls are more passive, better  layers, never go broody and  I love the way they chat and mutter to each other as they tour the garden. They also do poos the size of small dogs, a bonus for the plants.

It’s been very cold and wet here this week, so it’s not a great time to have new chicks. The main flock have been very happy to go to bed, having spent the day  crouched miserably under the chicken shed as the rain literally comes down as though grey buckets of water are being chucked  from the sky.

The chickens are a great start my day. Stopping to make myself a cup of tea, I head down to the chicken corner and let them out, chuckling at all the crowing and posturing from the young cockerels and taking delight in the chicks peeping out from Mrs Chicken’s feathers. The valley is often shrouded in wisps of mist, the garden has some new discovery, the Chief cat comes and sits on my lap for warmth and watches the chickens with me as I drink my tea, swearing quietly at Subordinate cat who is very jealous and sits at my feet.  It’s a wonderful way to forget the world’s problems!


Chief Cat on the left with Subordinate cat on the right

Roominations in the garden. Garden design in retrospect.


My garden has been divided into rooms, almost by default. It’s a big garden and difficult to manage, because of the slopes, the north facing aspect and the heavy clay soil, peppered with rocks.  The house sits squarely in about 2,400 square metres. I’m glad it isn’t any bigger, because it’s  the limit of our physical ability to work it. Sometimes I hear people lamenting their decision to buy a large plot of land, as they realise they just aren’t able to manage to prune 50 odd olive and carob tree every few years, (let alone harvest and process the crop) strim all the weeds in the Spring or even walk up and down such a big stretch with the wheelbarrow. A little word of warning from someone who feels it every day in their bones …don’t get greedy eye when it comes to land in Portugal if you’re getting on in years, unless you can afford a gardener and other staff. You’ll live to regret it!

Nikki & Len's new house

In the first two years we had this brand new hillside plot, all we seemed to do is fight with it. The weeds grew 15 feet tall (see here) the rocks wiggled their way out of the ground and I constantly fell over them, the earth became hard and parched and cracked and swallowed up the plants, the terraces kept having minor avalanches whenever it rained, the wind blew everything over and the chickens I insisted on having at the earliest opportunity gobbled up all my seedlings. One day I realised I was almost resenting my garden as it was a constant battle to sort it out.  A little shocked at the revelation, as this garden had always been my dream,  I sat down somewhere in the middle of the 6 feet high Chrysanthemum Coronium for a rethink. I knew we couldn’t go on strimming and chopping and bending our backs was I going to start enjoying this garden instead of confronting it every day?


If I’d had the money and good sense to start with, and I’ve since learned it isn’t that expensive, I should have hired a garden designer who could have talked through the management with me and advised on the right plants. But at that point,  I thought a garden designer was much too posh for me and anyway I’m not very good at being told what to do. As I sat there, it occurred to me that I’ve made gardens before, albeit very small ones. Perhaps, if I saw each part of the garden as a separate room, maybe it wouldn’t seem so daunting. So that’s what I started to do.


My garden, on arrival

The garden is divided into terraces, three at the back of the house and  a couple at the side and three at the front if you count the top of the cisterna. I saw the back terraces as the  herb and vegetable garden, as they were closest to the house and the water supply;  a side terrace as a sort of jungly and perennials garden as it’s mostly shady, near a tap and near where  we sit; a large area under an olive tree as a wild flower garden, clear around its base in the summer, so we can pick the olives by laying a sheet underneath, as this is our best eating olive tree.


The olive tree and wild flower area

There is one area near the house with no soil really as it’s on top of a huge boulder, so this became a succulents garden, by necessity. The top of the cisterna, a very difficult area with only a small amount of soil, which is baked by the sun in the summer and flooded in the winter rains, would be sedums, thymes and succulents and the odd iris germanicus  which are real toughies. (See I’m starting to use the Latin names…get me! )


At the beginning


A year later

Lower down the garden, I have made a grasses/irises garden…it’s very windy on this bit and I like to see the grasses swaying violently in the biting North wind!  Seriously though, they look lovely and the sound of them rustling away is wonderful on a Spring day. This area also has three plum trees, a  loquat and pomegranate which was thoughtfully planted before we arrived by the builder and is now mature. Then on the lower terrace, which is divided up by stone paths, the front part nearest the drive has been planted with Portuguese natives, such as cistus and phlomis  and chicken proof aromatics and roses. The rest of it is a mini orchard with citrus, two different figs, a quince tree, and a pear. I have come to be very exasperated by the citrus trees, but that’s another story.


The grasses and irises area

On the basisthat we can’t really afford to water an ornamental garden, since we haven’t got a bore hole (although we have a cisterna and other measures such as grey water recycling) I try to grow useful or edible plants generally throughout the garden so we can get our money back on any plants we have to water. (Although Señor Faztudo insists that my cabbages probably cost about 20 euros each)


A vegetable garden in development behind the house

We moved  the chickens from behind the house to the bottom of the garden as they were driving us both mad with their pooing and crowing and scoffing and stuff.(the coop is behind a screening hedge, see phot below)  Chickens love scratching and I want to improve the soil here and suppress weeds, so I’ve given them a mega playground in this corner, by mulching heavily with wood chips. They scratch away happily to the hearts content without doing anything but good.


My “farm” corner

(Chicken poo is vital to the development of this garden, I have to say, but I haven’t taught the chickens to only poo in the mulch and not on the paths, although I’m working on it! ) I see the corner where the birds hang out as a sort of  micro permaculture experiment and mini farm. I have a FB friend in the Algarve who has a page called “Permaculture Playground” and although I can’t go as far as he has, in that tractor tyres will probably not be tolerated by Señor Faztudo,  I am doing mini experiments in this corner as it’s the furthest distance from the house.


Native plants on the banks

It’s difficult to get a balance between Señor Faztudo’s sensibilities in the garden and mine. I want him to be happy, as  it’s his garden too and he gets a lot of pleasure from the work he does in it. If I’m honest though, he only allows the chickens because he loves me. He actually hates the mess they make and rarely ventures near their corner. He’s not best pleased when he steps in a pile of poo and I can hear the swearing from wherever I am working. But the  hippy shed and greenhouse he is making me (see how much he loves me) are also an  area and I can go to this far flung corner of the garden and be the mucky pup I want to be in peace -as  long as I take my horrible shoes and mite ridden garden clothes off before I come in the house. Another part of the deal is that the areas around the house are kept relatively tidy with nothing climbing up the walls and hanging over things not allowed near the pool. And since it is himself who cleans the pool, I try to comply, albeit grudgingly.


Mini horta/farm area

Compromises have to be made, I guess!  Thats what I signed up for 35 odd years ago. We are all different and that’s what makes the world go round. But his sensibilities are definitely a part of the garden design.

Most of the garden, apart from the vegetable area, where I like to keep some useful weeds (more of weeds in the next blog) is mulched, some with geotex and gravel mulch and some with woodchips. I think if I knew then what I knew now,  I might have  used woodchips throughout, but the  instant garden that evolved in the early days using the geotex and gravel gave us some kind of garden very quickly and heartened us both as it defeated the weeds. It’s done well with the natives and the grasses, but I do think the mulch allows for soil improvement and all the processes that go on in the soil in a more natural way. It would have been messier though as the chickens always scratch the mulch onto the path. The mulch has made the most significant difference to my garden, since we don’t really have too many  weeds any more and the plants flourish because the water they get is retained and doesn’t evaporate. There is some controversy about wood chips robbing the soil of nitrogen, but its fine if you don’t dig it in. I wouldn’t use it in the vegetable garden though and prefer to build the soil using compost.

Talking of compost, I have made a huge heap  from posts and chicken wire to receive any garden waste I do have and have included  some free manure from people with horses. . I pile everything up in a big heap in the middle of the garden in the Autumn and wait for the rain to come, the sun to shine and the chickens to scratch.


The compost heat with squashes growing in it

The chickens have half of the garden…this is very important to me. Not only because they kill the pests under the fruit trees, manure the soil scratch up the weeds, but because I’m very happy watching them. They don’t eat rosemaries, lavenders, salvias, cistus, canna lilies, irises, nepeta, some succulents,eg aloes, agapanthus, grasses…other than the seeds which they’re welcome to, roses..well they eat the flowers if they aren’t too  high for them, cape daisies (they eat gazanias though) So you can have a garden with chickens, although you do need to protect young plants until they get established with stones or covers.  Just  don’t have too many chickens!

My flock is growing at an alarming rate, partly because I’m too much of a wuss to eat any. I have five cockerels already, keeping the village awake and I know the day will come soon when I have to face what I have to do, although I’m doing my best to “rehome” them. Señor Faztudo says grimly that he knows exactly where to rehome them! The neighbours look at me pityingly feeding cockerels instead of eating them. I’m obviously not hungry enough, I’m sure they say. And they’d be right….


The chickens on the rampage

As far as garden design is concerned,  there certainly isn’t any room for more than 10 chickens.  I have considered asking for an extension or another room, but then I’d probably fill it with goats who’d have baby goats and donkeys and geese and turkeys and then we’d be a farm!  I wonder how much that plot of land on the other side of the house costs?

To block or not to block – Algarve garden projects.


It’s raining again today, but we’re happy because we really need it.  In the Algarve when you talk to locals in the village about the rain they says “Faz falta” which literally means “There is a lack” or in other words “We need it”  There is officially a drought across Portugal this winter and the reservoirs are nowhere near the levels they should be. The trees need a deep watering or the farmers will start to despair.


We have been using  lovely crisp, blue-skied days to work  on garden projects  throughout the whole day. The evening light, as we put away the tools, is suffused  along the horizon, a pure Moroccan ultramarine, tinged with pink,  highlighting the hills around sunset time and the almond blossom so luminous below us. It is four years now since we really started work on this garden and by the end of next year, I think  we’ll  have finished at least the hard landscaping and any buildings and then I will be able to focus more on the planting.  And by that time, neither of us will be able to manage all this heavy stone lugging and earth moving we’ve been doing, as we get towards our mid sixties and our back and knees start playing up. It doesn’t matter how many people tell us you’re only as old as you feel, it’s not true when it comes to some of the physical aspects of the work you have to do in the garden. Señor Faztudo has been suffering from a bad back since last March and I am becoming aware that my knees and ankles are also creaking as I barrow stuff up and down the hill! So I’m grateful we are coming to an end of the major projects.


The three main projects which we are working on this winter have been: the extending of our shady terrace and enclosing it with a glass block wall; (mainly to stop any future little people and old gits falling off the edge);  the making of a dry river bed to deal with the outflow of the backflow from the swimming pool and heavy rainfall and the building of a greenhouse next to the hippy shed. Not bad going for one winter!


The terrace is an interesting project. Although this house is new, we weren’t involved in designing  it. When we moved in, we realised there wasn’t really anywhere suitably shady to sit when the weather became really hot. If you’re coming from Northern Europe, you are always trying to capitalise on the sun, but here, from June to September, you seriously need some shade, not just for yourselves, but for those potted plants you crave which just won’t survive the summer unless you have somewhere to put them out of the fierce heat of the noonday sun. Not even a mad dog and certainly not an Englishman or woman can survive the searing heat. I killed a lot of my succulents at first, because I thought they always wanted the sun, as indeed they do in the UK. Not so here! Many of them need to be put in the shade in the Summer, where they put on their most productive growth with watering once a week and feeding.


Our house is on a VERY steep slope. People who have been to visit and heard or read my description of it have been very surprised at just how steep it is. So some of the walls here  actually have a 20 foot drop behind them. As we get older and more doddery we eye the steep drops over our stone walls  more warily and I am more careful skitting around the place in my crocs in wet weather. I have been particularly mindful of not planting agaves and yuccas at points where if I fell from anywhere I might be impaled on them. Death by Agave Americana is not something I like to contemplate, even though I  know it would make a very juicy headline, “Algarve woman impaled on her Agave!” –  I can just picture the headline in the Portugal News. I hope not to give them the satisfaction.

So when we came to extending our terrace, I had to think of some way of building a barrier. At first, we thought of wrought iron, which can be skilfully made by a local blacksmith. Indeed, we commissioned him to make a security door for the terrace doors.  But we are on a pensioner’s budget nowadays and it was looking quite expensive. Passing a neighbour’s garden, I saw a glass block wall, the kind they used quite a lot in the 1980s in the UK and which are quite frequently used as shower enclosures here. Mostly I hate glass blocks with a vengeance, but there was something about the way that the light glistened through this neighbour’s garden wall that took my fancy and set me thinking. In a hot climate, glass block doesn’t seem the most suitable material for outside. There is the possibility of fire risk, the lack of strength, the likelihood of the colours in any blocks fading and other considerations.  I started exploring the use of glass blocks in garden design on the web and there was very little, but a couple of projects I did see, I really liked.I fancied  a slightly retro feel to mix the old and the new in our garden. There is a lot of retro stuff in architecture in the Algarve and I didn’t think it would look out of place in our garden.


We went to the local DIY store and as fate would have it, they had a massive discount on the types of blocks I thought would look best and we came home with a job lot at knock down prices. I’m quite a superstitious type and believe in omens and the like, so I reckoned the decision had been taken out of my hands. I wanted a few coloured blocks which were eight times the cost of the others , so Señor Faztudo and I had a little tussle about that. But as usual, he bowed to my superior garden design skills. I was still very nervous about the whole thing, but our minds were made up by the baragin on offer, which was probably just as well or we’d have gone on cogitating for months!

We couldn’t do all the work ourselves, as we don’t really have that kind of DIY knowledge or the knees for it, so we enlisted porfessional help and the photo beelow is the end result. For those of you who are technical, you need to insert iron reinforcing rods between each layer on the horizontal if the span is as wide as ours and the tiles on the top and stone pillars give etra strength. This is meant to be a decorative wall and doesn’t get  hot sunlight for long  in the Summer and none in the winter or we wouldnt have used these materials. I like the end result and am very happy and look forward to the extra space it will give us for entertaining our friends and familiy in the Summer.  It just leaves the wrought iron gates which we will commission later and some pots of lush green plants. The olive tree had a number 1, but it will recover! (The lamp is temporaray  as I broke the lovely globe one we had by dropping it off the edge of the wall)


The next project was the dry river creek. The backwash from the swimming pool runs down the garden and waters the fruit trees without ill effect. I thought it would kill them but it doesn’t at all.(yet!) And I guess when you think about it, the pool has no more chemicals that the water coming from the tap, although you obviously can’t do this with a salt water pool. However, we needed to slow up the water which comes out with force and is causing erosion. We went down to the local river bed, which is a dry river creek  for most of the year, to gather the stones. I expect I have broken some serious environmental rule regarding the extraction of stones, but then,  if I have done that, so has everyone else, because the stones have been used on the tracks  around here and to decorate houses all over the place. It was quite enjoyable gathering the stones and finding the prettiest ones, but not so enjoyable lugging them in supermarket bags back to the car on a hot day. I certainly don’t need the gym! Two car journeys later my dry bed was complete and now it only remains to develop the planting to finalise it. It’s quite fun to watch the river come alive when the backwash is done and it is now slower going down the hill towards the fruit trees. I also think it looks quite nice and can only get better.


The last and final project is yet to be completed. We have laid the gravel down  for the greenhouse where I hope to be happily potting away my seedlings in a few weeks time. Senor Faztudo spends an hour or two here and there sawing and banging in the garage. He even showed me a sheet covered in equations he had worked out to estimate the incline of the roof (I often forget he is a mathematician and physicist by training) I am also impressed by his woodworking skills. The chicken house is still going very strong three years later and I am sure the greenhouse will be of equal quality (if I ever get it!)


My greenhouse will be here one day!

As for the plants, there is good and bad news.  I had a terrible attack on sooty mould on the citrus trees this year, but I have been cleaning every individual leaf with soapy water and they look a lot better now. Not sure if it was the aphids or the mixture of milk and neem oil I used to kill them that caused the mould. It looks horrible, but doesn’t actually kill the tree. I hope we don’t get it next year, I’ll keep a closer eye. We nearly lost a full grown plum tree in the heat this Summer, I wait to see if we will have any leaves in the Spring. The almond blossom is  beautiful. But more of the Spring in the next blog. I want to save something for later!