Exodus

Exodus Under a big holm oak, I sat on a stone resting a little the sun so early in the year was hot, years ago there were flocks of sheep here they laid chewing ignoring me. This year there is none not even pellet droppings the landscape is being gentrified and no peeing up against a tree It is strange when people who are not of the land the first thing they do is to try trimming it and making smooths tracks made of imported sand, plastic chair and a nice cuppa. The extended field of olive trees lends itself to a golf course; they will of course, leave a few trees with tall grass and call it the rough little can be done give the developer a chance and Portugal ends up looking like Florida, and architects will draw the same dull estates and find some fancy names for their vandalism. But let them spend money before it comes crashing down abandoned and nature can take it back, yes it has happened before and with good reason when small farmers were so poor they sought work on the other side of the ocean and their old homes has trees growing through them nothing is new only the name changes like a rabbit would care