Birdsong and Church Bells

Today in our small white painted village it has been sizzling hot. One of those still, with the air treacle thick , sun filled days when it hasn’t been so bad being ‘locked in’. I have been happily idle knowing that tomorrow may bring rain ,(April showers do happen here too), and just sweltered by the pool reading. The only sounds being the many birds chirruping and, cooing ,( grackles, doves, and a dreaded cockatoo), the occasional distance bark of a dog on the campo , the church bells ringing in the hour and half hour, and the relaxing trickle of the water in the swimming pool as the pump works its magic.
Living in Maro, you are always aware that you are never far away from the campo land that surrounds the village. The land is divided up and toiled on by the villagers, working to produce vast crops of beans, potatoes, tomatoes, (some grown under poly tunnels), papayas , bananas , mangoes and the ubiquitous avocados which are grown everywhere, the trees squeezed into the tiniest plots. It is a way of life that has been lived here for hundreds of years , and I always marvel at the men toiling in the hot sun. It is hard work. Everyone is so generous too, and particularly at the moment , bringing to the door gifts of fruit and vegetables. We are so fortunate to be part of this community albeit in a small way.

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