Life, lately: it's been, oh, so quiet

It's June (can you believe it?) and things are slowly going back to normal. Yet I don't feel an urge to embrace normality. It's safe in here: a refuge where I can shut out the noise and concentrate on the little things that have sustained us for these past 2.5 months; a place of comfort where every little thing is familiar and loved. Outside these walls, the world seems to be a place of confusion and chaos. But here, it's been,  oh so quiet; and I've been thriving on quiet. Thriving and resting. aligning my often-erratic thoughts into some semblance of order and giving myself the time to just be. I've stopped worrying what I should write about, feeling thankful that I've never tried to fit my blog into a specific niche. Which means I am free to write about almost anything. So today I'll just be sharing some of the things I've been doing during this quiet time that is soon coming to an end.

Quiet moments: walks in the countryside

May 1st was a holiday and we hiked a trail in the valley beneath our house. We were surrounded by cultivated fields on all around us.

In some, the wheat was harvested and baled; in others, the tenderest of vine leaves were starting to unfurl. There was already a feeling that one season has reached its zenith and was retreating to make way for another, much harsher, one. Spring is beautiful, short and fleeting in the Mediterranean and its colours in May are mostly golden, with a hint of green.

Another walk we took was in the hamlet of Santa Katerina. Although it was a Sunday when we went, farmers were busy weeding, watering their crops and sowing the seeds for summer's produce. It was another slice of bucolic paradise.

On a warm Saturday morning, we drove to an area known as Santi, parked the car, and walked through another peaceful and fertile valley (this past month we really made the most of them) until we came to the edge of a cliff overlooking Fomm ir-Rih bay. Above our heads, the giant cat weather vane that was created for the Windrose Project languished lazily in the still air.

During this walk I was very excited to be able to photograph the transformation of pomegranate flowers into fruit. I had never seen these half-fruit half-flowers before and I thought they were fascinating.

Our last walk, this past weekend, was to a Bronze Age settlement overlooking Fawwara. Not much is left of it except for a number of silos that were used to store water or grain. I couldn't help but think that our forefathers certainly had an eye for a stunning view as I scrambled over rocks and boulders to take some photos. I absolutely love this place, both for the glimpse we get into Malta's ancient history and for the spectacular natural scenery. The icing on the cake was the incessant bird song and the scent of the wild thyme that is blooming all over the garigue.

I was also happy to discover that Malta's national flower, the Maltese rock centaury (Cheirolophus crassifolius - for those that love the Latin names), is thriving in this ancient place. This plant is endemic to Malta and does not grow anywhere else. Purple and lilac are the prevalent colours of rocky areas right now with the rock centaury, wild thyme and a particular type of thistle whose name I don't know all in bloom.

Quiet moments: reading

I am still reading quite a bit and shared the books I read during the winter months here. Apart from my fiction reads, at the moment I am reading 'Venice' by Jan Morris. My husband didn't like this book as he thought the language was a bit too flowery but I love the poetic way in which Jan Morris writes her ode to La Serenissima. After all, how can you visit Venice and not be touched by her beauty, splendour and decay? This is exactly the sort of book I would have written for the Queen of the Adriatic if I had the skill. It is one woman's love-song to a city whose beauty is not only ethereal but ephemeral.

Apart from the printed word I am also enjoying the content of some very beautiful blogs. My friend, Heather Robinson, is, once again, writing at Lost in Arles. Heather has a natural talent for gently drawing the reader in and then spell-binding him or her with her words.

I was introduced to another two beautiful blogs: Life Around My Table and Kath In Italy, by none other than Elizabeth, our Vintage Contessa. It is always fun to read Elizabeth's blog because you never know what you will discover.

Quiet moments: in my garden

I probably spend more time taking photos of my flowers than actually gardening. I find flowers endlessly fascinating and am using all the live filters on my camera and phone to capture then in different moods - especially my Pink Peace rose. When we bought it, it had no flowers and the card that came with it showed a fuchsia-coloured flower. But instead it's the most delicate shade of pink that makes it the perfect model for some vintage-inspired shots. The neighbours must think I'm crazy taking dozens of photos of the same flower but there is such a depth to its layers that I just can't help myself.

Quiet moments: baby steps

June is here and summer is just 20 days away. Even though I was one of those that thrived during the quiet weeks of this very strange spring we have lived through, I realise that it's time. It's time to take some baby steps back into the real world. Next week it's back to business here and I'm a bit scared, not necessarily because of the virus, but because I have realised that I will always prefer my own company. That I will always seek solitude to socialising. I have not missed anything much except contact with my family and closest friends. I've concluded that I can live without shopping and eating out and as long as I have books I will never be lonely. Does that  make me boring? In some ways. Because I confess that I have been relieved not to have people breathing down my neck when I'm in a store or getting too close when queuing for something. I have never been comfortable with strangers who, prior to COVID 19, had no concept of social distancing or of not invading one's personal space. Hopefully, we have all learnt something that will endure.