It's rained much more during this past couple of weeks than it has done at this time of year for ages. In the past two weeks it's rained, or at least showered, about ten times. In between, of course, we've had some wonderfully bright, clear sunny periods, which is why I so often liken a Rhodean winter to a British summer.
But, during all of October and the first two weeks of November this year what we experienced was virtually a drought. Of course a lot of ex-pats and holidaymakers love it, and I suppose you can't really blame them. But it's bad news for the farmers and anyone who wants to eat.
This morning I've been writing and the better half reading, because, once again it's been raining. Now, though, it's brightened up and we've been out to throw the compost in the ditch and empty the coffee grains and, for the first time this winter, watch the sheep come past the front gate. The shepherd has a new vehicle. He used to come by in a little Seat Ibiza, then an old Renault Scenic. Now he's got a 4x4 pickup, which isn't brand new, but it is in good shape. On his way back up the lane with the flock we had the chance to greet him for the first time this winter. Yvonne-Maria said,
"You're early this winter. Last year we didn't see you until January."
"Well," he replied, from his half-open window, "The weather dictates. This year it didn't rain at all until the middle of November, but now the grass is greening up and the sheep need nourishing. So best to get started."
We touched on the whole area of how the weather's changed recently and he confirmed something that I've suspected, although purely through observation. The past five winters now have been far too dry. It affects everything. If there isn't enough rain the citrus fruit becomes much more susceptible to disease and pests, if it even grows at all. last year we saw this, with Greek friends having lots of problems with little worms in their mandarins. In fact our own entire apricot harvest last summer was wiped out by worms in the fruit, turning the apricots to mulch.
It goes through every aspect of nature, and we are all affected by it. The olives are very few and far between this year, because the autumn rains make them fatten up, but there was none. One of the three mills in Arhangelos, which is normally running twenty-four-seven throughout November and December, is actually closed. I've never seen that before, and this is my 14th winter here. The shepherd explained.
"If there isn't the rain then the plants can't extract the nutrients from the soil. The oranges don't grow and aren't juicy. The corn on the cob (which is under-developed anyway) we have to feed to the sheep because there's no grass, then they miscarry when the ewes don't get enough goodness from what they eat to help their fetuses to grow in the womb. There was no rain this year to fatten the olives and so there will not be much oil on Rhodes."
I've probably mentioned this several times before, but on one of the routes we follow when going for walks through the forests and olive groves up behind the house here, we cross what in past years has been a babbling brook that used to flow for several months every winter. In fact, it usually flowed long enough for frogs or toads to law spawn and for it to hatch, produce tadpoles and eventually more frogs and toads. This past four or five winters it hasn't flowed at all. Small wonder that only this past week my wife remarked on how seldom we've seen the beautiful Mediterranean Toads around the place that used to be abundant in the garden during both the winter and summer months.
Our conversation with the shepherd drew to a close, he remarking that ex-pats and tourists say that hot, sunny weather feels great, but if we don't get the rains when we need them, everyone hurts.
He's right, of course.
But, during all of October and the first two weeks of November this year what we experienced was virtually a drought. Of course a lot of ex-pats and holidaymakers love it, and I suppose you can't really blame them. But it's bad news for the farmers and anyone who wants to eat.
This morning I've been writing and the better half reading, because, once again it's been raining. Now, though, it's brightened up and we've been out to throw the compost in the ditch and empty the coffee grains and, for the first time this winter, watch the sheep come past the front gate. The shepherd has a new vehicle. He used to come by in a little Seat Ibiza, then an old Renault Scenic. Now he's got a 4x4 pickup, which isn't brand new, but it is in good shape. On his way back up the lane with the flock we had the chance to greet him for the first time this winter. Yvonne-Maria said,
"You're early this winter. Last year we didn't see you until January."
"Well," he replied, from his half-open window, "The weather dictates. This year it didn't rain at all until the middle of November, but now the grass is greening up and the sheep need nourishing. So best to get started."
We touched on the whole area of how the weather's changed recently and he confirmed something that I've suspected, although purely through observation. The past five winters now have been far too dry. It affects everything. If there isn't enough rain the citrus fruit becomes much more susceptible to disease and pests, if it even grows at all. last year we saw this, with Greek friends having lots of problems with little worms in their mandarins. In fact our own entire apricot harvest last summer was wiped out by worms in the fruit, turning the apricots to mulch.
It goes through every aspect of nature, and we are all affected by it. The olives are very few and far between this year, because the autumn rains make them fatten up, but there was none. One of the three mills in Arhangelos, which is normally running twenty-four-seven throughout November and December, is actually closed. I've never seen that before, and this is my 14th winter here. The shepherd explained.
"If there isn't the rain then the plants can't extract the nutrients from the soil. The oranges don't grow and aren't juicy. The corn on the cob (which is under-developed anyway) we have to feed to the sheep because there's no grass, then they miscarry when the ewes don't get enough goodness from what they eat to help their fetuses to grow in the womb. There was no rain this year to fatten the olives and so there will not be much oil on Rhodes."
I've probably mentioned this several times before, but on one of the routes we follow when going for walks through the forests and olive groves up behind the house here, we cross what in past years has been a babbling brook that used to flow for several months every winter. In fact, it usually flowed long enough for frogs or toads to law spawn and for it to hatch, produce tadpoles and eventually more frogs and toads. This past four or five winters it hasn't flowed at all. Small wonder that only this past week my wife remarked on how seldom we've seen the beautiful Mediterranean Toads around the place that used to be abundant in the garden during both the winter and summer months.
Our conversation with the shepherd drew to a close, he remarking that ex-pats and tourists say that hot, sunny weather feels great, but if we don't get the rains when we need them, everyone hurts.
He's right, of course.
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