The grass is greener

It seems extraordinary, but my last post here was exactly a year ago on August 15 a.k.a Ferragosto 2019, the biggest Italian, summer public holiday. 

I still remember the first, heart-rending sight of our trullo immersed in a sea of ugly weeds, the pool-cover groaning with slime and brackish water, the interiors damp and unloved, a fine layer of dust covering the treasures I'd collected over so long and carted with such joy in a truck, some 2000km from London the year before. We had been so full of hope and then....

 

This visit could not have been more different, even if the frustrations and delays are exactly the same. For a start, it was incredibly exciting (and slightly scary) to take one of the first flights out of London as lockdown was lifted in July and despite the surreal experience of empty airports, a flight swathed in masks and hand gel, temperature testing and contact and trace forms, our arrival and first impressions of the trullo were unforgettable. 

Our amazing neighbour, Giuseppe - see two blogs before this one - had introduced us to Michele La Terza, a spherical fellow whose love of food was evident but whose green fingers were said to be legendary. "Leave it to him, trust me" said Giuseppe.

Michele and his wife

We have around 5,000 square meters of land with 30 or so olive trees, stone fruit trees including plums and cherries, almonds and fig trees galore around the trullo but the little plot had been abandoned for half a century, overgrown and desperate for love, attention and someone with a tough and learned pruning hand. 

As we parked the car, rather than a view of weeds and thigh high grass we could see the sea! All of a sudden, what had looked like a sad, arid block with building rubble and a few trees on it looked like a woman after her first, Covid 19 hair cut and blow dry! Wow! 

At left, the sea sparkled through trees carefully pruned - olives when tended are cut with a flat top - while at right, our straggly oleanders, planted around the back of the pool in a fit of optimism two years ago had blossomed into plump, flowering blots of green and pink against the white. 

Walking down toward the front, we could see that what had been weed and dry dust, was slowly succumbing to a gentle swathe of what is known as 'gramigna', a soft indigenous grass which is nevertheless tough enough to live on sand dunes and live through the winter frosts we get up on our hillside. 

The pool, with its little stone edge installed at last looked happy, clean and inviting - and the trullo - tended over the winter by a local lady who came and aired it and put the heaters on once a week to banish condensation - said 'Welcome, come in!'

While we'd not had much of a win with the builder - a few bits and pieces had been done before Covid struck but nothing really in the months before - we did  triumph against the national electricity provider which had quoted €5,000 (!) to remove a redundant electricity pole which was butted right up against the trullo. 

Now that we had undergrounded the power cables during the restoration process, the pole was not only ugly and spoiled the views but was of no use at all. One day, I trained my Iphone onto the top and zooming in on the shots, saw that the concrete was eaten away....one sharp letter to the power company warning their pole had concrete cancer and we'd bill them if it crashed down on the trullo and it was gone. Gratis! 

With pole

Sans pole!

We're here for a month now, to try and follow up on the outstanding works (the new water cistern needs connection, earth-movers in to fill the cables trenches, erection of a pergola and finish to the paving, sealing of the trullo flat roof areas etc etc) not to mention the final chapter of the permits saga. I'm an optimist at heart - we had to be over the last three years - and determined that this dream of ours must come to fruition. 

More to come, watch this space.