Sitting here looking out the window on a stormy and unstable rainy day, quiet for having the comfort of four walls to keep me away from the elements.
The beginning of winter reveals itself in December when not only the low temperature marking the coming of the new stage of life. There is less daylight indicating the hibernation of nature, frost on the meadows and puddles filled with water, which show us that autumn is over.
While winter can have its charming aspects, especially in countries where snow falls, here most people gather in their houses. There is no agricultural work and the people dedicate themselves to tasks inside their dwellings.
Up to this point, the winter in Minho has been reasonably light and dry. However, when January comes to an end, it is cooler, the rain appears with more force. In the first field works, farmers have to face the elements in the near future.
The days are beginning to grow and I have recently noticed daffodils emerging from the earth, these two signs combined can at least remind us that better times are coming and winter does not last forever.
Spring is the favourite season of year for all farmers and also the busiest, is therefore often expected with apprehension.
For the people of Minho, it means to prepare the ground for the sowing of spring. The tractors appear on all sides, and the noise of their engines accompanies us during the day.
Spring is a new age of life, both of plants and animals. Birds may be the fastest to react to temperature changes and appear earlier and earlier. This year I was surprised with two nests, one in each punch, that I left.
It may be in May, before the clock of the city dweller indicates that the winter has ended, here in the middle of the Minho country side the song of the birds, the bees Queens traveling sleepily in search of the nectar, the flower in the lavenders are the signs that the season has changed.
I feel the intensity and speed with which Spring came, unstoppable. And then, suddenly, it's here. Here in the countryside is where the spring was first visible than in any village or city. Where after the accumulation of a winter of washed sepia tones, we are hungry for green and ready for the force of transformation.
