The newly constructed fence across my land to keep out the “javalĂ” the wild boar or Portuguese feral pigs. I added the sharpened poles to be an extra deterrent. Those pigs can get through almost anything.
My area of Portugal has been experiencing a huge problem with feral pigs in recent weeks. These porcine invaders are diabolically clever. They can push down stone walls and burst through electric fencing. The feral fiends attack at night. They’ve ravaged my vegetable garden and my neighbor’s even bigger veggie patch. Apparently they seek out moisture and dig up the ground looking for roots and grubs
My dog, Divina, takes her watchdog duties very seriously. Her sharp ears pick up the sounds of the approaching JavalĂ. I let her out and she charges down the hill barking furiously. Alas, a couple of times I wasn’t quick enough. After they’d ruined my vegetable garden, they hit the area I’d spent hours landscaping. Sure enough, the next morning I looked out on disaster.
The landscaped area of my garden before and after the JavalĂ struck. The feral pigs rooted under the black plastic and pine back I’d laid down to prevent weed growth.
According to my neighbors, the JavalĂ have no natural predators. There is a hunting season from October to early spring. But so far I’ve heard very few shots on Thursdays and Sundays, the days designated for hunting. So, I hired a very nice British man to build me a fence and now I’m hoping it will protect my property.
Fig trees are everywhere in Portugal. There are almost as many fig trees as olive trees. At least that’s the way it seems.
But unlike the olives – which are valued in Portugal like liquid gold – figs go relatively unheeded and unloved. They fall to the ground and, when squashed, look unpleasantly like a gob of snot.
Late August and early September is the season for figs. The trees can grow to enormous size. And they are incredibly hardy. You can cut them to the ground and the next year they’ll be back again, huge and shaggy. Believe me, I’ve tried this.
The fig tree near my house. You can see where I’ve cut a few branches. This spring I gave it a ruthless pruning, but it’s threatening to overwhelm the wall once more.
Most of the fig trees here in Central Portugal produce dark purple fruits. Actually, figs are properly classified as flowers, not fruits. I’ve recently learned the fig flowers are pollinated by wasps. Apparently female wasps make their way inside the fig, lay their eggs and die. Luckily, so the scientists say, the fig produces an enzyme that dissolves the wasp skeleton so the stuff you crunch when you eat a fig are seeds.
One of my neighbors has a tree (ficus carina Lattarula) that produces green figs. Here they call them “honey figs.” When ripe they typically exude a tiny drop of a sweet substance, hence the name.
Although I like eating ripe figs, I prefer them dried. I recently tried my hand at drying my own figs. I followed a recipe that recommended cutting them in half and laying them in the sun. It took about three days. I covered them with a tea towel to prevent unwanted attention from flies. A friend said she dried her figs by laying them on the dashboard of her car. I tried this too, but it’s inconvenient to remove the figs every time you need to drive somewhere.
Of course, anyone who studied English Lit. probably came across D.H. Lawrence’s famous poem all about figs. It gives you a whole new perspective on fruit and femininity. Thank you D.H.
Olives are a major crop in Portugal. Last year there was a good crop but this year the olives are scarce.
Plague is sweeping the world. Political unrest is rampant, olive trees are nearly barren and wild pigs have destroyed the garden
Is this the apocalypse?
In my tiny corner of Portugal I don’t have too much first hand experience of the first two problems, plague and political unrest. Thankfully Portugal has done a good job containing Covid-19, while Portuguese politics is pretty tame by US and UK standards. Life is downright bucolic here in Chãos, despite what the name looks like in English.
However, the olive trees and the pigs are a different matter.
Out walking my dog Divina the other morning, I looked up into the branches of one of the tens of thousands of olive trees that grace these valleys and saw not a single green olive. By this time last year, the branches were already heavy with fruit. By early October 2019 they were ready for harvesting. I spent several days helping various neighbors with the laborious job of stripping olives from the branches.
This year, nada! Same story with the grapevines. Olive oil and wine production are major industries in Portugal. So, no olives and no grapes means long faces everywhere.
Invasion of wild boar
As if to add insult to injury we’ve had an invasion of wild boar. They’re known as “javelina” in New Mexico where I used to live. (That’s pronounced havaleena.) In Portugal, where the letter “J” is a soft sound, they are called “javeli, pronounced “zhavalee.”
Wild boar, called “javeli” in Portugal.
No matter. There is nothing soft about the these guys. The javeli can push through stone walls, demolish fences and tear up the earth as effectively as a Rotatiller on steroids. They are a canny lot. They hide in the thick brush during the day and strike at night.
They burst through an electric fence and laid waste to the neighbor’s vegetable garden that I helped plant. Although considered omnivores, these wild pigs just churned up the ground. Apparently they like roots and grubs. Weeks of hard work, clearing the earth, planting, tending, watering, fencing – all for nothing!
My neighbor surveyed the devastation and shook his head, “I’ve been here ten years and never seen anything like it!”
The Javali left beans, tomatoes, cucumbers, onions and melons crushed but uneaten.
The giant zucchini plant, a few beans, a bell pepper, and the Mother of All Zucchinis.
It’s been hot in central Portugal since the beginning of July. My own small veggie patch has suffered in the heat. Thankfully, I have more planted at my neighbors huge, and well-watered plot.
That’s where the zucchini plant I started as a seed back in April, has now grown to monster size. Seriously, this is like the Little Shop of Horrors or Day of the Triffids. Still, the zucchini (also known as courgettes) are delicious. Unfortunately, the large leaves hid one of the largest zukes which grew to giant size before I picked it. This massive vegetable is 20 inches (about half a meter) long and weighs 5.2 lbs (2.35 kg.) I haven’t tried cutting into it yet.
I’ve been busy picking my tomatoes as well. The bush is heavy with fruit. I pick a few each day and enjoy them with salads. I’ve also tried making my own tomato sauce. Yum!
Just one day’s worth of ripe tomatoes from my Portuguese garden.
Her plan to visit in March went awry when the US unilaterally imposed a travel ban on flights from Europe to prevent the spread of the Covid virus. Back in March, numbers of infections in Italy and Spain were soaring, Germany and France were close behind. The first cases showed up in Portugal early that month and the Portuguese prime minister announced shutdown measures would take effect March 18.
A few days after receiving my email, my friend booked a flight to Lisbon in early July. Then came the first disappointment. I began to see postings on the Facebook group, Americans & Friends in Portugal, indicating that only US citizens who had a residency permit or a visa to stay longer than 90 days in Portugal would be allowed into the country. Sure enough, I did a little more research and found confirmation of the bad news.
Still, there was hope that the situation might change as we got closer to July 1. Leaders of European Union countries had set this as a target date to reopen their borders. Alas, near the end of June came further bad news as it looked likely that visitors from the US would not be welcomed in EU countries in July. Days later, that possibility became a reality.
I live in a small village in central Portugal where several of the homes are owned by British and Belgian expats. The two Belgian couples only spend a few months a year in Portugal. This year, they were unable to come in the spring as planned because of the virus travel restrictions. In mid-June, I saw an item on the Portuguese news that said the border with Spain would open on June 22. This was quickly refuted because the Spanish had apparently not consulted the Portuguese before making the announcement.
But come July 1, new cars bearing Belgian license plates appeared on the village street and I knew my Brussels and Antwerp neighbors were back.
Unfortunately, my US friend had to cancel her flight and it’s uncertain when she might be able to visit. With Covid infection numbers in the US skyrocketing, people I talk to in Portugal say they really don’t want Americans coming here. US citizens are still able to fly to the UK and Ireland, but must quarantine for 14 days there. It’s unclear if they could travel on to an EU country after completing that quarantine.
Yesterday, I dug up the first crop of the potatoes I planted in March. Nothing can be quite so satisfying as growing your own food for the first time.
I hadn’t planned to start a vegetable garden this spring. My plans for the spring and summer were all about having visitors to come stay in my new Portuguese home and travel to explore different parts of this wonderful country. Alas, that all went out the window when the Coronavirus hit, forcing governments worldwide to require people to stay inside, and social isolation became the mantra.
What to do? I had plenty of “garden” space and lots of time to fill. Plus, the weather in central Portugal is ideal for growing. I knew this because of the world class weeds that had sprung up during the long rainy weeks of autumn.
So, I set to work digging the heavy clay beside my house. I swear, you could make pots from this soil. When wet, it quickly clumped on the bottom of my wellies (rubber boots) so that I had to waddle around carrying dead weight with every step. It was well-nigh impossible to scrape off. If only I had a wheel and a kiln, I could probably be in the pottery business instead of gardening.
Nevertheless, I persisted (does that phrase sound familiar?). I added well-rotted horse manure and chicken poop collected from my neighbor’s land, along with bags of compost and wood ash. I bought lettuce, cabbage and onion seedlings, beans and seed potatoes from the small hardware and garden supply store near my village. Later, my neighbors gave me some zucchini, which I put in pots.
This was my first spring in Portugal and I didn’t know what to expect. My expat neighbors who had been here for a few years all said that each year was a little different – but they did mention that April was usually the month of a thousand rains. So it was. Lots of rain. A little dismal during the Covid19 shutdown, but great for the garden. Daytime temperatures were generally around 12-15C (in the mid to high 50sF) and not significantly colder at night.
My garden grew like crazy.
The tiny lettuce, cabbage seedlings, beans and zucchini exploded into huge plants. I’ve really enjoyed eating out of my very own garden. Maybe this will become a regular hobby, no shutdown needed.
When I moved into my house in central Portugal last July, the “back yard” was a forest of dry weeds.
Last year I moved to Portugal from Albuquerque, New Mexico with the intention of renting or buying a house. Within a couple of weeks I’d found an old stone cottage that had just been completely renovated. The original asking price was substantially higher than what I had budgeted. But the expat who was advising me said, “nobody ever pays the full asking price in Portugal.” So, I began haggling. The Realtor  helped translate because the local builder who had renovated the house spoke no English.
One of the haggling points revolved around the type of wood burning stove I wanted and some other interior details. He offered me a choice of some “better landscaping” or additional interior improvements. I chose the interior improvements, saying I could do the landscaping myself.
Well, when I moved in mid-July, the outside of the house was surrounded by knee-high dry weeds. I spent several weeks pulling weeds and had a neighbor go over the areas with a rototiller. Once cleared, I began to buy plants and “decorate.”
I created a Zia sun symbol around the septic tank to remind me of New Mexico. I also planted flowers and rosemary which I hoped would eventually spread and cover a lot of ground.
Alas, I should have done more to cover the ground to prevent the weeds from reappearing. Once it began to rain in November, and didn’t stop till nearly Christmas, the bare ground was soon a mass of green weeds and my plants began to disappear.
As the rain continued, it encouraged all kinds of things to grow – not all of them were welcome.
Still, I wasn’t prepared for what happened next. I left Portugal in January to spend some time in the US with my son, daughter-in-law and my new grandchild. When I returned in February, the area that I had so laboriously cleared was waist-high in weeds and all my plants had disappeared.
Every piece of earth that I hadn’t covered with black plastic was filled with weeds.
I used a trimmer (weed whacker) to fell the weeds, then covered everything with black plastic to make sure they couldn’t reappear. I was planning to cover it all with bark. I needed help to do that job but then came the COVID 19 shut down. I had to wait until May before I was able to get a friend to help me with that chore. It was a long, hard job, but the result was gratifying.
The once weedy area is now covered with pine bark and I’m planting more flowers.
For the first time since early March, I’ve been able to get my hair cut and sit outside at a cafe as Portugal gradually relaxes restrictions.
Portugal’s “State of Calamity” went into effect May 3, as a step-down from the State of Emergency restrictions that started March 18.
Beginning May 18, restaurants and cafes were allowed to open at 50 percent of capacity. Hairdressers and mid-sized shops of up to around 4,000 square feet were allowed to open.
It has been such a pleasure to see the little shops open again in my nearby town of Tomar, in Central Portugal. It was a huge relief to be able to get my wild hair cut again. Meeting a friend at a cafe was delightful.
Going into shops you have to wear masks. Outside, people sat at a distance from one another but we were able to be there without masks. After wearing a mask during my haircut, and enduring the itchy feeling of tiny pieces of hair slipping inside the face covering, it was a relief to be outside again.
Portugal`s Prime Minister announces switch to ¨State of Calamity¨, easing restrictions enforced under the ¨State of Emergency¨declared March 18.
It´s been about six weeks since the world pretty much shut down and ¨ficamos em casa” or ¨Stay at home ¨has become the daily mantra in Portugal.
I know it´s to protect us all from getting infected or infecting each other from the dreaded Covid-19 virus. But oh, is it lonely! Telephone calls and Zoom contacts just aren”t the same as having a meal, coffee or glass of wine with friends.
So, I am delighted that there is finally a possible end in sight. The Portuguese Prime Minister Antonio Costa announced on April 30 the end of the ¨State of Emergency¨at midnight on May 2, and a switch to the, less restrictive, ¨State of Calamity.¨
From May 4, small stores and businesses like hairdressers and barbers operating in spaces up to 200 square meters, (2,152 sq.ft.) can reopen. Appointments will be required. People will also have to wear masks in shops.
People will be able to meet again publicly, but no gatherings of more than 10 people. Oh joy!
From May 18, restaurants and cafes will be able to reopen at 50 percent of capacity. Museums can reopen. Larger businesses, movie theaters and concert halls will be able to reopen from June. 1. Yay!
As of May 3, Portugal had 25,190 cases with 1,023 deaths from the diseases. That compares with 245,567cases and 25,100 deaths in neighboring Spain, according to Worldometers.info. One of the reasons cited for the lower mortality rate is the proactive approach in testing, according to the Financial Times. As of April 30, Costa said 307,302 tests had been conducted.Â
Costa qualified his statement, saying the danger from Covid-19 wasn”t over. He said the government would reevaluate the situation every 15 days going forward. Still, at least there is a glimmer of light at the end of what has been a dark period.
Despite the restrictions, I have been able to enjoy the sight of these beautiful wildflowers growing everywhere in my part of Central Portugal.
Friends suggested putting out containers of beer to kill the suspected slugs that are eating the leaves of my tiny bean plants.
Something is eating my bean plants, and I don’t like it! After all, I planted them with the full intention of eating the fruits of my labors myself – and I don’t like to share. At least not with slugs.
I admit, I am a first-time veggie gardener. My plan for this summer was to landscape the land around my Portuguese home and explore parts of the country I haven’t yet seen.
As we all know, the Coronavirus put paid to that. So, I decided to turn my energy into growing food. Some doomsday scenarios indicated we might face food shortages, (as opposed to toilet roll shortages), in the future.
Digging a small vegetable patch in the heavy clay land beside my house required a lot of energy. I expended considerably more energy gathering bags of well-rotted horse manure from my neighbor’s muck pile.
The beans I got from the local hardware store look a bit like Pinto beans and I’m not sure what they will yield. However, I was absolutely delighted when little green shoots began to pop up through the earth. More delight followed when the leaves appeared.
Imagine my dismay, then, when I saw holes appearing in the tiny leaves. Slugs or snails my friends said. They sneak out at night to feast on your baby plants. Go out around 11 p.m. and you can pick them off. Since I’m usually tucked up in bed well before that time, that wasn’t an option.
Beer, they said. Put out containers of beer and that will attract the blighters (my friends are mostly British) and they will die happy. So, I risked going to the local store to buy a liter of Sagres, the most common beer in Portugal, and placed the containers beside my tender plants.
Checked them the next morning – alas, nary a slug nor a snail.
Plan B, I’ve been told is surround them with crushed egg shells. The sharp edges impede slug and snail progress toward the leafy prize. We’ll see. Stay tuned.
My veggie patch: rows of beans and cabbages on the left, pots of courgettes (zucchini) and a row of potatoes.
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