Sloe, Sloe, Dig, Dig, Sloe

Posted March 12, 2013

Filed under Countryside, Garden and gardening, Tools and machines

A hedge-in-the-making: one of 20 blackthorn shrubs that now grace our back field

The Boss has an aching back – but he’s convinced it will have been worth it: he’s just planted 20 blackthorn bushes in the back field of our finca in rural Mallorca. One day they’ll grow up to become a long hedge and bear a multitude of sloes (see how hopeful I am?) with which he’ll make sloe gin. The fact that we can look forward to our own crop of sloes is down to our fantastic friends from Oxfordshire, who kindly brought the young shrubs over to Mallorca in their cabin baggage! http://livinginruralmallorca.com/2013/02/15/sloe-road-to-mallorca/

Planting anything on our land calls for more than a spade and fork, because what looks like normal land is mainly rocks with a covering of soil. Rarely can we plant something where we’d ideally like it to be, because a few test probes with a fork usually reveal that there’s not enough earth, or a mammoth rock is lurking beneath. Where would we be without a pickaxe?

Dynamite Might Do It

A Mallorcan wine-maker who lives nearby once told us how, as a child, he remembered dynamite being used to blast away rocks in one of the family’s fields so that an orchard could be planted. It’s a large field, so we can only imagine how noisy that must have been!

Whilst dynamite would be a quick solution – and less back-breaking – it would surely frighten the sheep in the field across the lane . . . and probably sound the death knell for what’s left of the ruined neighbouring casita. And think of the dust!

So our fledgling hedge was planted with muscle power. And don’t those muscles know it.

Dressed to Impress

Posted February 11, 2013

Filed under Countryside, Fiestas, Weather/Climate

Blossom on one of our almond trees

We don’t make a habit of having people to stay at our finca in rural Mallorca during the winter months, because the weather can be a little unpredictable. But with the new roof having made a big difference to the comfort levels indoors, we were happy to accommodate our best friends from Oxford when they asked if they could come over for a long weekend. At least we knew they wouldn’t have water dripping through the ceiling in their room if it rained . . .

All Dressed Up and Somewhere To Go

They chose a good time to come, because it was carnival this weekend and, in Manacor, this is an event well-supported by the local population. It seems as though most of the locals take to the streets in fancy dress, to parade and party to live bands and wandering percussion groups playing batucada. Undeterred by the bitterly cold wind, we donned our own costumes (dressing as Brits going out for a winter walk) and pitched in with the party people. I just love the creativity behind some of the amazing costumes and make-up that we see every year at this event, and worn by everyone from a baby in a pushchair to a sprightly octagenarian.

Mallorca’s ‘Snowflakes’

But it’s not just the people who were dressed up over the weekend. Mallorca’s almond trees are currently at their height of loveliness, swathed in the beautiful blossom which attracts visitors to the island at this time of the year. When a gust of wind blows, petals flutter like snow to the ground. And sometimes, there’s even a little real snow . . .

If, like our friends Duncan and Kristina, you’re not too worried about what the weather might do, these winter months can be a very special time to visit Mallorca.

Five Go With Us Into the Winter – Part 3: the Logburner

Posted December 17, 2012

Filed under Countryside, Food and drink

Not such a blast from the past – our old almond-shell-burning stove

When we moved into our finca in Mallorca there was a traditional metal open fireplace in the sitting room. We’d been looking forward to cosy winters in front of a log fire, roasting chestnuts, as we enjoyed a glass or two of one of the delicious Son Sureda Ric (www.sonsuredaric.com) wines, produced in our region of Mallorca.

We had a small supply of logs delivered and lit our first fire with great excitement, but it wasn’t long before we had to open all the doors and windows because of the smoke billowing around the room. Somewhat counterproductive when you’re lighting a fire to keep warm!

The Boss soon got to grips with the fireplace, but meeting its demand for logs became difficult. Because it was an open fire – and our home is exposed to the north winds that often whip up the valley – the wood burned very quickly and little heat seemed to come into the room.

Norwegian Good

So we invested in a Norwegian Jotul woodburner, which has filled our winters with warmth and pleasure – and is one of the best things about winter in Mallorca. It’s very economical with logs and, even better, will burn slowly 24/7 if we want it to. Not only does it give us heat, I often cook jacket potatoes inside it, and make soup that sits in a large pan on top of the stove, slowly cooking through the morning so that it’s ready for lunch. Oh, and it makes a useful plate-warmer too!

One of the things left behind in our finca by the previous owners was a Hergóm stove. It no longer worked, having at some stage had its stovepipe removed, but at one time it would have been used to burn almond shells – a handy fuel on an island with so many almond trees. I’ve tried to persuade The Boss that we should recommission it and install it in the bathroom, but to no avail.

However, I gave the old stove a bit of a spruce-up and it’s become a purely decorative feature in our home – a rustic reminder of how homes like this would once have been heated. Except that on one of our visits to Leroy Merlin – a DIY store on the outskirts of Palma – we saw one of these stoves for sale. It looked exactly the same as ours at home, and had a price tag of 300 euros. So much for nostalgia.

Five go with us into the winter – part one

Posted December 11, 2012

Filed under Countryside, Tools and machines, Weather/Climate

Many people who know Mallorca for its long hot dry summers are surprised to hear that the island can be rather damp and chilly during the winter. Where we live in the countryside, we often wake up to a sea mist in the valley, which cloaks everything in a heavy dew. It does look truly spectacular some mornings, but there is the downside of the resulting dampness.

A misty morning in the valley

How we laughed (in an ironic fashion), when we read one of the first Christmas cards we received after moving here: “Bet you’ll be having Christmas dinner in your shorts!”. At the time, we had no electricity and only a butane heater to keep us warm (and increasingly damp).

Winter wonder island

With the benefit of time and experience, we have learnt to enjoy the positive aspects of winter here. Whatever the weather – and it can be very bright and sunny in winter – the island is still naturally beautiful, and there’s no better time to do some serious walking in Mallorca.

But getting through the worst of the weather is made far easier with the help of our five winter essentials – the first of which is:

The generator

When The Boss said he was buying a Lombardini, I don’t think I was listening properly. I thought he’d said a Lamborghini – and that maybe he’d won the lottery.

Said Lombardini – a beefy red number – is the diesel generator that acts as a back-up to our solar energy system, when there’s not enough sun to fuel it, or our energy requirements demand extra support. For much of the year, it’s little used. In winter, it’s an essential piece of kit.

The generator is cleverly rigged up so that it starts automatically when the battery levels fall below a certain point, then runs for about one hour before switching itself off. There’s also a system that prevents it starting automatically before 9am and stops it at 10pm. We chose these times so as not to disturb others living in the valley – although they all have generators too, so are probably oblivious to the distant low rumbling noise that is a facet of rural life in places like Mallorca.

A switch in time

We can also switch it on and off manually, using a switch within the house – even though the generator itself is housed in a small outbuilding halfway down our field. That’s particularly useful during the times when we want to use electric heaters in the early morning or in the evenings, when there’s no sun on the solar panels – and we don’t fancy going outside in the cold!

Although a Lamborghini would be a lot more exciting, when it comes to functionality, the Lombardini has to be the machine for me. And, unlike the flashy Italian sports car, it only uses one litre of diesel an hour . . .

A chill in the air

Posted November 28, 2012

Filed under Countryside

Woolly jumpers in the lane!

It’s turned rather chilly on Mallorca today. It’s all relative, of course, because the 11 degrees C we have at the moment outside at our finca, would probably be welcome right now back in the UK.

Watching this afternoon’s weather forecast on IB3 TV – covering the Balearics – I saw a selection of photos sent in by viewers over the past few hours. One of these images showed a thin layer of snow lying on the ground up in Mallorca’s Tramuntana mountains, around the Gorg Blau reservoir. Brrr . . .

A vested interest in the weather

Another sign of winter has just been spotted. Local farmer Pedro, who just trundled up the lane on his ancient tractor – moving his sheep to a different field – was wearing his warm-looking hat with the substantial ear flaps, rather than the jaunty battered straw number that graces his head for much of the year. On the basis that Mallorcan farmers seem to be able to predict the weather as well as any meteorologist, I’m off in search of my thermal vests . . .

Olives, Anyone?

Posted November 15, 2012

Filed under Countryside, Food and drink

It’s always interesting to visit another rural part of Mallorca, because the landscape varies so much on the island. This weekend, the village of Caimari (near the mountains) is the location of the Fira de S’Oliva – a two–day celebration of all-things-olive.

When we last visited this event I was intrigued to see olive oil ice cream for sale on one of the stalls: “Must try that,” I said, digging into my purse for some change. “I’ll treat us.” It turned out not to be much of a treat for The Boss, who abandoned his cone in disgust after just one rather reluctant lick. I, however, thought it was delicious.

The emblem of the Fira de S'Oliva in Caimari

The emblem of the Fira de S’Oliva will be seen everywhere in Caimari this weekend

Green, Black, and Liquid Gold

Although our tastes in ice cream may vary, we both enjoy eating olives, olivada (the local version of tapenade), and olive-studded bread, and we use virgin olive oil in the kitchen and at the table. So the temptation to do something with our own olive harvest eventually became too great . . .

Next time I’ll tell you about my attempt at preserving our olives – which doesn’t quite compare to the scale of the olive project successfully carried out by some Engish friends here.

Pork Talk

Posted November 12, 2012

Filed under Countryside, Food and drink, Garden and gardening

Here are just a few reasons why our Mallorcan farming neighbours in the valley are so great:

They often give us fruit and vegetables they’ve grown. On one occasion, while I was out for a walk and passed the finca of Toni and Maria, they came out and presented me with the world’s largest watermelon. So enormous was this magnificent fruit, that I had to carry it up the hill, pressed against my stomach and supported by both arms. By the time I staggered through the gates at home, I had an inkling how it must feel to be heavily pregnant . . .

They’re generous about sharing their knowledge and advice – on occasions, unsolicited. The Boss was once up a ladder, giving our almonds trees a long-overdue pruning – not something of which he’d had a lot of experience. Pedro stopped while driving past our finca to tell him where he was going wrong . . .

They’re very honest. One day we were talking – in castellano – to a local couple who farm in the valley and sometimes stop for a chat when they’re passing. “You’re like a real Mallorcan now,” Margarita told me. I puffed out my chest in pride – my Spanish was obviously improving. “Yes,” she reiterated. “Just like a Mallorcan woman!” And with that she patted my tummy . . . a reference to the fact that quite a few Mallorcans carry just a little bit too much weight around the middle. Brutally honest.

They’ve never invited us to a matanza. We’ve been invited into the homes of several Mallorcans for meals and various social occasions, but thankfully we’ve never been invited to a matanza – the slaughter and butchering of the family pig(s). This traditional event, which takes place around this time of year at farms and rural homes all over the island, is one I’d rather not witness, thank you. It’s an occasion for family and friends to gather and join in with the messy business of turning a perky pig into a pantry (or freezer) full of porky products for the coming months. The thought of being elbow deep in a large vat of squidgy pig bits is not for the squeamish . . . and certainly not for me.

It’s for the matanza that our local supermarket has stocked up with the necessary accessories (string, paprika and a white powder that prevents rancidity) for turning Peppa the Pig (don’t let your little ones read this) into Mallorcan delicacies such as llonganissa, botifarró, and sobrassada – a well-hung cured pork product flavoured with a generous quantity of paprika.

Sobrassada is emblematic of the island and adds great flavour when used in cooked dishes. It’s also popular spread thickly on rustic bread but, personally, I’d prefer a well-made crispy bacon sandwich. If only I could find one on Mallorca.

Sobrassada spread on rustic bread – a popular Mallorcan snack

Jan Edwards Copyright 2012

Winging It

Posted October 19, 2012

Filed under Animals/Wildlife, Building works, Countryside

A view to fly for

It seems an age since light has flooded into our little house in rural Mallorca. Only the front door is open while we have the builders working on the roof; all the other external shutters are firmly closed to protect the windows and other glazed doors from debris – and the occasional dropped tile – falling from above (usually followed by loud shouting in Arabic). Having been going on for just over two weeks, our mole-like existence is set to continue for a few more days yet . . .

From Flying Tiles . . .

I’m not complaining, because the workers seem to be doing a brilliant job, working like the artisans that they clearly are, but I miss being able to see the country views through the windows. Although the weather has been lovely, we feel pretty much confined indoors because the area around the house has become a rather hazardous zone; we have a pretty impressive hat collection, but they’re mostly of the straw variety and unlikely to deflect the pain from a flying terracotta tile.

. . . to Flying Predators

So, to remind myself of what I’m missing, I’ve found a photo (taken with a zoom lens) I took from the sitting room one day, of a kestrel checking out the Mediterranean cypress tree just outside the house. Given the current level of noise around here, I doubt there are any kestrels to be seen at the moment . . . but they’ll be back. Impressive, eh?

A Burning Issue

Posted October 17, 2012

Filed under Countryside, Garden and gardening, Weather/Climate

October 16th has been ringed on our calendar for some months, and The Boss was longing for the date. It’s not a birthday, anniversary or another of those occasions that requires a frantic search in local shops for something resembling a decent greetings card. This was the first date on which we country dwellers in Mallorca could legally have a bonfire – the risk of wildfires deemed to have passed once an autumn storm or two have dampened things down.

Smokin’

The last time we were able to have a bit of a blaze was in spring, so the pile of garden waste had grown into a mini-mountain. The Boss had covered it with a tarpaulin at the first sign of rain, to keep it as dry as possible for The Big Burn.

He wasn’t the only one itching to set a match to a summer’s worth of rubbish. As I was driving to Palma for an appointment yesterday, the countryside en route looked like the venue for a smoke signalling convention, and the air was heavy with the autumnal aroma of burning.

Man With the Match

It’s a man-thing

I’m not being sexist when I say that I think that this desire to light a bonfire – and keep it under control, of course – is probably a bit of a man-thing. For The Boss, it clearly beats more mundane tasks like checking the bank statement or topping up the solar power batteries with distilled water. There’s nothing like the risk of singeing the hairs on your arms or accidentally setting fire to your jeans (without realising) to add a spark of adventure to your day. As The Boss can confirm.

What Lies Beneath

Posted October 5, 2012

Filed under Building works, Countryside

Our roof tiles, on the terrace

As I write this, half of our house in rural Mallorca is without its roof tiles. Such is the construction of these typical old fincas that, as I stand inside and look up at the terracotta tiles that form our ceiling, I can see the sky through the thin gaps between some of the tiles. Fortunately, it’s blue sky and not ominous rain clouds . . .

Busy Between Breakfasts

The builders arrived yesterday morning, promptly at 8am, to begin the job of repairing our old roof. Fortunately, they’re working on one side of the roof ridge at a time, so the showers of dust that fall periodically through the gappy ceiling tiles aren’t landing on my computer; I’m in the roofed half of the house.

Who Needs Scaffolding?

It’s a big job. The three builders – Moroccans working for a local Mallorcan firm – began by carefully removing the traditional curved roof tiles. All done, I might add, without the aid of scaffolding; our outdoor wood-fired stone oven adjoins the house and they’re climbing onto that to get onto the roof. The tiles that have survived intact are currently stacked on the terrace, to be replaced in due course.

An hour after the workers had arrived, they were sitting on rocks in our back field, eating what the locals call ‘second breakfast’. (If that sounds a bit greedy, they probably had only a glass of milk and a biscuit for the first one – fairly typical). Then, they swung back into action, removing cement and some strange yellowish lumps that The Boss identified as foam he had once injected into some of the gaps between the roof tiles, to stop rats from using our roof space as a penthouse pad.

It was the noisiest day we’d ever experienced here in the valley. Somehow, amid the banging and crashing that was going on, the three builders managed to maintain a lively and ongoing conversation. Which was more than we could do indoors.

Scantily Clad

At 5pm, peace was restored. The workers had left for the day, leaving us to inspect the first day’s progress. There was a mini-mountain of rubble on the drive – looking like something Tracey Emin might have created. And our roof had been stripped back to what appeared to be a thin layer of tarred felt – the only thing that had been between the ceiling and the roof tiles.

It was obvious why we’ve had rain coming into the house: a couple of decades of fierce summer heat and ravenous rats had turned our roof’s undergarment into something resembling black lace. Hopefully, the new stuff will be more like Damart . . .

Living in Rural Mallorca

Jan Edwards, Author

Category Archives: Countryside