Kali Thea

I took this pic while strolling last Saturday past a vineyard near the village of Kalithea.  "Kali" means "good" and "Thea" view.  Many villages in Greece have this name, invariably for similar, obvious reasons.

A loss

This blog is now over a year old.  I have enjoyed posting my material here and I have enjoyed tuning in to a select few blogs authored by other bloggers.  One of these, the author of which has not only been an inspiration to me but has also, unknowingly, been something of a mentor,  I have followed since the very beginning of my blogging career.  Now, sadly, plagiarists have pushed him into committing blog suicide; where once I could expect to find erudite wit and interesting photographs to brighten my visits to Blogland there is now no more than a clean slate.  A great shame.

The joy of spring

Zapi

Today I woke to heavy rain which has continued, on and off, all through the day.  Yesterday was very different, a beautiful, slightly hazy, soft-light, warm spring day.  I spent it as pleasantly as it deserved.  First gathering pebbles for a "beach" feature I am making in my garden, then strolling, with my regular strolling companion, along an undulating track lined with flowering sage, gorse and a multitude of smaller plants.  The heavily scented track led us from the pebble covered beach which we had plundered, around the back of a headland, to the sandy beach at Zapi where we ate picnics, talked life and books and read poems in the sunshine at Maria's, closed for the winter, taverna.

Shocking scenes

Kasimiotis' Hotel: the remains of the covered dining area floor.

Until last Thursday I had not visited Kosta's beachside hotel since the storms struck in February.  The scenes of destruction I saw there on Thursday shocked me.  The hotel has suffered no damage but what have hitherto been its dining and play areas have been totally destroyed.  For years he has thrown a party there for Easter lunch.  I doubt he will be able to do so this year.  Indeed, he will be hard pushed to get the place ready for the summer season which usually begins on the first weekend of May.

In past summers I have often dined here at a table on the beach from where I watched younger,  fitter types play volleyball.  When I saw it last Thursday their pitch was no more than a depository for piles of smashed trees.  

Lady in red

She is quite a lot younger, less angular, a little more rounded, unblemished, cleaner, a lot less open and, although sprightlier in most ways, she feels a lot tighter.  The man from whom I bought her treated me kindly as well he might; this is my second purchase from him, my last was but eleven years ago, and he has every reason to look forward to more custom from me eleven years rom now.

Farewell and thank you

For over ten years, during which time I became rather fond of her, she served me well.  What ever I asked of her she responded to willingly and I know that some of my more extreme demands, pressed in foul weather, on rock strewn meadows, were far less than reasonable. Ever ready for action, she kept strong and healthy.  Recently though she has been showing some signs of her age and the consequences of my unreasonable treatment of her; leaks becoming evident where there once were none, discoloured blotches on exposed surfaces here and there, minor failures.  The time, sadly, had come to look for a replacement for her, something younger, fitter, more sprightly.

At the car dealer’s showroom in Kalamata I found something to suit me; ten years younger, smart, little used, perhaps just a little flashy. The dealer eyed my trusty steed suspiciously.  “There are holes in the floor” he said.  “Of course”, I replied, “The rain that pours in through the holes on the roof has to get out somewhere”.  He offered me eight-hundred euros for her which I accepted with alacrity; before he had a chance to change his mind.  I said a sad and silent goodbye to her as her drove her down into the service bays under the showroom.  But, life must go on!

Plough the fields and scatter?

Not a paddock and far from Kent, it is all I have handy, it will have to serve to illustrate this post.

In an e-mail received here this morning, I learned from a friend in Kent that a local developer has bought a large paddock close to her house on which, she says, he intends to have built an evangelical church.  That ground be ploughed to rid it of all life is, apparently, a prerequisite condition of building.  If this is true; that in order to raise a  building in which the creator  of all life can be worshipped it is necessary to have all life destroyed, does, it seems to me and to say the least of it  sound like something of an extraordinary paradox!