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 five weeks ago, I read a posting on Facebook that had a link to a Condé Nast Traveler magazine article which said Portugal would be opening flights between the US and Lisbon on June 4. Overjoyed, I emailed the good news to a close friend who had said she would come visit me here in Portugal.

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.

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.

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.”

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.

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.

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.

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.

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. 

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.

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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.

It’s been a month now, and this social distancing thing has prompted people to find whole new ways of filling their days. These days I’m scooping poop; as in horse feces, droppings, whatever you like to call them.

Hey, I could do worse. I’m not sure what, but cleaning up after half a dozen horses helps my neighbor and gives me the raw material to make my vegetable garden thrive.

I’ve never been a gardener. But this year, seeing as I have moved to a place where it rains (Central Portugal) and stuff grows like crazy. Plus, all my plans to entertain visitors and do more travel came to a grinding halt due to Coronavirus – I decided to plant a vegetable garden. I figured I might need to produce my own food. Hence the need for manure.

I walk down the hill into the valley that separates my land from my neighbor’s, wearing my trusty Wellington (rubber) boots. It’s been raining off and on here for a couple of weeks, so the ground is very muddy. I grab the fork and wheelbarrow (Carrinho de mao in Portuguese) and set off in search of the tell-tale piles. Horses spend most of their days grazing and defecating. It’s amazing how much manure they produce in a 12-hour period.

This job is not a hardship for me. I grew up around horses and spent time as a Workaway volunteer in Portugal doing just this while researching my options for moving here.

Anyway, I’ve put it all to good use in the little veggie patch I’ve created. So far, I have lettuce, cabbage, onions, zucchini, beans and potatoes sprouting in my garden. It’s a very exciting experience!

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These days, with the daily Coronavirus mantra “Don’t touch your face” – I’m flat-out afraid to scratch my nose. That may sound trivial, but I suffer from seasonal allergies. Fellow sufferers will know that springtime can be torture as flowers and trees burst with pollen sending your nose tickling unbearably. Well, it’s springtime in Portugal and boy are the flowers sharing their pollen.

Ever since the Portuguese President Marcelo Rebelo de Sousa declared a state of emergency in mid-March, I’ve started wearing latex gloves when I venture into town to shop at my local Lidl supermarket.

I’m not sure if these really protect me from the risks of catching the dreaded Coronavirus Covid-19, but I figure I may as well be proactive. I am in my golden years, after all.

However, donning the gloves is no easy task. It’s a good thing I usually do this in my car so no one hears the swearing that accompanies this task. It gives me a whole new level of admiration for surgeons who perform incredibly intricate and life-saving tasks wearing such things. I even have a new understanding for guys who use condoms.

Once I have the gloves on, I steer my shopping cart toward the supermarket entrance. The guard positioned at the door to ensure only a minimum of shoppers are inside at any one time, makes me wait. I eye the other waiting shoppers suspiciously, making sure to keep my distance.

After I shop, I fumble at the checkout counter, fishing for my debit card. Thinking, I must remember to wipe it off in case it’s contaminated.

But the very worst is the moment when I’m pushing my cart through the parking lot and my nose starts to itch. I remember the warnings, don’t touch your face! It gives a whole new level of torturousness to spring allergies.

It seemed like the world as I – and pretty much everyone else – knew it, came to an abrupt end about three weeks ago. Just like that, almost everything shut down, everyone decided to stay at home and stories about the Coronavirus dominated all news and conversation.

I count myself very fortunate to be living in a tiny village in Central Portugal. As of today, March 30, Portugal had around 5,900 cases of Covid-19, compared to nearly 80,000 in neighboring Spain. Still, the numbers have been climbing steadily. The first cases surfaced in Portugal around March 1.

Yesterday, for the first time, I felt a moment of real fear as I drove toward the town of Tomar to get some essential groceries. I hadn’t been into the town for about two weeks and suddenly I felt as though I could really be putting myself at risk. Before entering my local Lidl supermarket, I donned latex gloves and eyed the few people inside with suspicion, carefully keeping my distance.

I was so happy to get back to my hilltop village where I can take my doggie, Divina, on long walks. I can work with my neighbor’s horses, and watch the seedlings grow in my garden.

Spring is underway and the poppies, wisteria, hawthorn and numerous other flowers are everywhere. As a friend of mine said, you can stay at home and be a bit bored if you know it’s for the good of all humanity.

If you don’t mind spending a lot of time on your own, this can be paradise.