I say, it's turned out rather windy of late. Well, it was last week anyway. It's calmed down somewhat this week, but last week it was mighty blowy. The Portuguese weather, to be fair, has had it's ups and downs this summer. In Spring the general consensus was that it was going to be the coldest summer Portugal had ever seen. Back in June a fellow blogger that I follow posted an article about the Portuguese mid-afternoon wind, or "Wind O'clock" as they called it, which gave an excellent snapshot and a colourful insight into Portuguese weather. When I was camping with my family it was mostly cloudy, but then a couple of weeks afterwards the sun was out and it seemed like every day was a beach day. And then this last week the wind has really got up. One morning, I think it was last Tuesday, I woke up and opened the shutter doors to reveal that all the lovely clean clothes that had been hung on our plastic white horse, and that I had neglected to bring inside overnight, had been strewn far and wide across the cobbles of our garden. Yup, last week it was windy.
The summer in England on the other hand has been remarkably good, or so I hear. If I'm completely honest though, I don't really think about the weather in England that much any more. I don't go out of my way to avoid the weather forecast for England or anything like that, but I don't really make a point of waiting around after the news and watching it either. It's not like I don't care about it, but I sort of get an accurate enough picture of the English weather from people posting about it on their Facebook statuses! Oh, yes, us English just love talking about the weather.
But the weather here is not always nice. I know that many people (especially in England?) think of Portugal as being perpetually sunny and hot, but it simply isn't like that. That morning last week, when I was outside picking up the clothes from off the floor, it was cold. Windy and cold. Okay, so it was seven in the morning, but it felt cold. I know I mustn't grumble really, but I think I've become acclimatised to the Portuguese weather now. Well, at least partly. And I know that Winter is coming. The clues are there: The fact that people have started to talk about where they buy their firewood from and how much it costs; My neighbour bringing my family a bowl of grapes freshly harvested from his "farm in the north". All of this, plus the inescapable fact that the "windy season" seems to have arrived with much gusto, are signs that Winter is on it's way.
Today, this very morning, another portent, another sign that Winter is well and truly winging it's inevitable way towards us; the first rain. The last time I remember it raining was maybe back in May or possibly June. And yet today the clouds arrived, the sky became overcast and dull, and then, the rain started. Down it came. Suddenly, after months of dry dusty (but possibly not as hot as it could have been) weather, the air was filled with the long awaited fresh green scent of rain. So this morning as I looked out over the gardens at work and watched the rain splashing down on the lawn and creating ripples in the fountain, with a cup of coffee in my hand and a smile on my face, I breathed deeply in the sight, sound and smell of the rain. With my acclimatisation to Portuguese weather comes he understanding that the first rain after the summer is always something to be seen as a magical moment, almost as if the weather itself has held it's breath over the summer and finally can hold it no longer, suddenly letting go and flinging it's shoulders back as the pressure is finally released. And relax...
And so it may well be time to try and pick a dry day to get some firewood delivered.
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