The more of less

 “If one’s life is simple, contentment has to come. Simplicity is extremely important for happiness. ” 

The Dalai Lama

I think that ‘less is more’ is likely to be our motto for life this year. Take this blog, for example. I love blogging but this is the first post I have written for almost a month: less writing means more living. With the house renovation practically done, we can spend less time indoors and more time outside where we both prefer to be. Fewer planned visits to the UK will mean more time to explore Spain, both near and far. Fewer trips to source building materials or cart rubbish away means more time to simply ‘be’ at home, enjoying the beauty of this special place in which we live.

Living simply, however, doesn’t mean living lazily, and the first few weeks of the new year have seen us busy in so many ways. It has been wonderful to finally turn our attention to the lengthy list of outdoor projects that has been waiting in the wings for so long and – up until this week – the weather has been warm and dry and fully conducive to getting out there. One of the very first jobs I did when we moved here was remove hundreds of plastic bottles that had been tied to the fence at the end of the vegetable patch: goodness, that seems like a lifetime ago now! At long last, we have replaced the fence, taking in a couple of metres of field for extra planting space as we went. I suppose we should be thankful that there were no bedsteads involved this time but it was the usual mess of metal props, mesh and netting knitted together with endless strands of barbed wire, all on an impossibly steep slope.

There is much to do at this end of the garden, including tidying up the neglected horreo, but it’s amazing how a new fence has already changed the outlook and smartened things up. I’m planning to plant globe artichokes raised from seed inside the fence; if they grow half as well as our current plant, they should make a handsome hedge of silvery blue-green fronds. Beats plastic bottles in my book!

Our farmer friend Jairo delivered a huge trailerload of muck so we spent a couple of afternoons shifting it by hand to make a goodly pile in both vegetable patches, where it will rot down over summer into a pile of gorgeousness ready for spreading in autumn. Combined with homemade compost it is a rich, natural feed for our soil, the very stuff of gardening dreams. We’ve been hauling logs, too; how incredible that even in the depths of January, we are still putting more into the log shed than we are burning. I like that. The seating area on the courtyard is one of our most-used places, a favourite ‘room’ where we love to take a coffee break, eat meals or sit and watch the sunset. We’ve managed this far with the ugly and horrendously uneven concrete surface but at last plans are afoot for a serious makeover: a stone surround filled with building rubble to level everything, then covered in some huge stylish slates we saved from the old roof. Blimey, we won’t know ourselves!

Freed from the huge burden of house renovation carpentry, Roger has been enjoying himself with some more interesting projects. Having had to admit that our trusty old blue bench is literally on its last legs and really only held together by the paint, we decided it was time to replace it before there was a nasty accident (I hate the idea of our lovely old neighbour toppling off a rotten seat as he stops to catch his breath there). The old bench has been moved to a little-used corner (it’s still safe for one person if you know exactly where to place your behind!) and meanwhile, Roger has fashioned a new version from the wooden base of a single futon we have had for 25 years. With a lick of that Peacock Blue, it’s just the job . . . now all we need is the sunshine back. (To the left of the wall, you can see the river raging down the valley in full spate after 24 hours of torrential rain.)

Bits of planks left over from making the stairs have been fashioned into smooth, circular pot stands; these are just perfect for our ‘stove to table’ approach to cooking and are a welcome replacement for our disgracefully shoddy table mats. Treated with a food-safe oil, I’ve found they also make nifty little chopping boards.

Now, let me tell you about that rather lovely paring knife . . . a recent and rare indulgence I’m happy to own up to. It was made by my nephew Harry who, for several years, has been perfecting the art of creating bespoke cutlery and believe me, what he doesn’t know about metallurgy isn’t worth knowing. I fell in love with this beautifully-crafted creation of stainless steel and recycled laburnum (fond memories of our hedges in Wales which had been planted with laburnum for tool handles), its size, shape and weight are just right for me and it is so sharp I swear you could slice air with it. There is something so satisfying using a piece of equipment like this that has been handmade with such care and attention, the application of an ancient art to modern living. Looked after properly and sharpened on a leather strop, it will probably last us for ever. Thank you, Harry!

So, after two months of virtual drought which has seen me watering pots and troughs to keep everything alive, nature is paying her debt with more water than we know what to do with. No problem, the garden was greatly in need and I have had plenty of indoor things to keep me busy. As cloth food storage bags and cotton hankies have been such a roaring success, I have sewn more of both. I finally dug out my dyeing equipment and dyed a skein of laceweight Merino for a gift; I’d forgotten just how much fun and how satisfying the dyeing process is.

Having sorted through my treasures in the attic, I am resolved to spinning far more this year as there is still quite a stash of fleece up there waiting to become socks (or other woolly delights). I’ve knitted a new pair of socks for Roger – having made them for practically everyone else last year, I thought it was about time! – and crocheted an intricate bohemian scarf as a birthday present. Gift wrap is such an environmental nightmare that I prefer to use brown paper which can at least be recycled or composted but it is a bit – well – brown. I flirted with the idea of printing with acrylic paint to jazz it up a bit but in the end I decided scrap yarn and old buttons were more my thing.

On the subject of scrap yarn, I’ve already made a patchwork blanket from leftovers but still seem to have oodles of colourful possibility left. I’m having a ball turning the more neutral colours into tiny finger puppets for little fingers; my Christmas gift to Ben, William and Evan is the promise of a regular parcel of ‘Puppet Post’ throughout the year. They are great fun but so fiddly! I’m enjoying evenings in front of the fire, rippling away at the ‘Cottage’ crochet blanket I bought with a birthday voucher last year but when it’s finished, there will be yet more spare wool . . . so inevitably, another patchwork event is on the cards. This time, solid three-round granny squares which take only four grams of yarn each which means I can use the tiniest scraps; this is the perfect pick up / put down project which will be good to take on my travels, too. It really has to be the most clueless of all my blanket projects so far: I have no idea what shape or size it will be as I have no idea how many squares I will end up with. Random or planned colour pattern? Joining? Border? No rush.

We kept free-range hens for over twenty years and I have to confess to missing a few about the place, I love their comic antics and, of course, the bounty of fresh, free-range eggs. We are lucky to have a regular supply from our neighbours but when they don’t have a surplus, I have started buying them from, a Galician company whose philosophy I love.

The hens range freely in pastures just as ours did; their eggs are deep brown and speckled with tough shells and huge golden yolks and are some of the best we’ve ever eaten. They come ungraded (but with a minimum weight) in a sturdy cardboard box which is designed to be re-used; every year, the company asks customers to send ideas for their use and for every idea submitted, a tree is planted. This is definitely my kind of thing so I’m hoping that turning a box into a soap mould will be worthy of a new tree for future hens to scratch under.

The soap in question was actually my first attempt at solid shampoo using locally-sourced ingredients plus some goodies from : olive, coconut, castor and avocado oils, shea butter, tea tree and lavender essential oils. It was fascinating to observe a different set of ingredients undergoing the saponification process; the resultant bars are silky and herbal and hardening nicely . . . and when fully cured, I have just the box to store them in!

Less complicated than soap, I’ve also made solid hand lotion bars by melting the beeswax I purified before Christmas with coconut oil, shea butter and cocoa butter. Warmed gently between my hands, the bar melts into a rich, unctuous cream which feels and smells wonderful and can double as a lip balm. I’ve put one in an old Lush tin to carry in my handbag, and an empty gift tea tin is perfect for storing the rest until needed.

Eucalyptus forests and their processing factories are a hot environmental issue here and understandably so. The bright side for us, however, is a ready supply of leaves, bark and wood which we can put to good use in many ways.

What a simple pleasure it was to wander through our dripping woodland under my brolly this week to pick a handful of glaucous leaves, spicy scented and sparkling with raindrops. Using a recipe from James Wong’s Grow Your Own Drugs, I heated the leaves gently in almond oil with pine resin, cinnamon and cloves – mmm, the house smelt wonderful.

This would make a splendid winter bath oil, if only we had a bath! No problem, it’s just as good stirred into a basin of hot washing water, sprinkled onto a hanky or a steaming bowl as a decongestant or used as a body and massage oil, lovely on aching muscles after a hard run. It is so deliciously aromatic that I’m also tempted to try it in a batch of soap . . .

Second only to the ubiquitous eucalyptus, kiwis are another vigorous import whose exuberance rewards us with several month’s worth (and what feels like several tonnes) of fruit. Late February generally sees the end of our fresh supply so this week I’ve been experimenting with drying them to keep as a healthy snack; I’m thinking they would be particularly good to carry on long walks. Without a dehydrator or the desire to run an electric oven on low for several hours, it’s a game of chance played out on top of The Beast but so far, so good. Now it’s just a case of beating the blackbirds to the remaining fruit.

As part of our continuing efforts towards zero waste, this year I’ve decided to do things differently where recycling is concerned. We normally store our recycling in the underhouse barn then, every few weeks, load it into the car and deposit it as part of a trip out to do other things. No more. This year, I’m taking personal responsibility for carrying it weekly down to the village recycling point which is half a mile from home. There are three reasons behind my decision. First, Roger has spent several hours clearing the junk (yet another pile belonging to the former owner plus our own post-renovation stuff) from under the house, creating a clean, wide-open, useful space; it just no longer seems right to be met at the door by a mountain of recycling. Second, it’s a nice little jaunt in the fresh air which rings the changes from running and yoga, gives me the chance to chat with neighbours and provides a decent workout pulling myself back up the cruelly steep hill home. Third – and most important – by dealing with our recycling in amounts that I can comfortably carry, I’m hoping to shift the focus from collecting to connecting, from mindlessness to mindfulness. Recycling is fine but reducing is better and I’m on a mission to look for more ways where we can do just that. How gratifying that the very first week suggested a possibility . . .

Doing the recycling . . . spot my red coat between the bins!

Bundling up the plastic waste ready for my Recycling Ramble, I quickly realised what a lot of yogurt we eat. It’s little wonder that with such an abundance of lush pastureland, Asturias produces dairy foods of the highest quality and we are only too happy to indulge in thick and creamy local Greek-style yogurt on an almost daily basis . . . but I only had to look at the pile of plastic packaging to realise Something Had To Be Done. Cue my first ever go at making yogurt, not without a certain sense of trepidation because if I am totally honest, I expected to produce an unpleasantly runny, acidic substance that neither of us would really like. Well, nothing ventured and all that.

The process was ridiculously simple: after scalding the modest pile of equipment with boiling water, I warmed fresh whole milk to body temperature, poured it into a kilner jar, stirred in a couple of tablespoons of yogurt (not our usual one as there was no indication that it contained live cultures so I opted for one of those ‘probiotic’ thingies instead), covered the jar in a pile of towels and snuggled it up next to The Beast overnight.

Wow, but how I smiled next morning to find a jar full of thick, sublime deliciousness!

Shameless in my quest for the true Greek-style effect, I turned the lot into a colander lined with a clean tea towel and let some of the whey drain off; oh my goodness, I could die happy eating this stuff, it is so thick and fresh and clean and mild and divinely yummy.

I shall keep a bit back for a new starter which means no more plastic pots and lids, just one extra milk bottle per shop and homemade yogurt for ever. Happy, happy day. By the way, the whey didn’t go to waste, either; it’s a good food with many uses, so Roger whacked it into his spelt and seed sourdough, making a scrumptious loaf to accompany squash and chilli soup served with chestnut croutons for our dinner. Not a shred of recycling (just composting) in that homegrown, home-cooked little lot, just great wealth and pleasure from living simply with less . . . and for us, that’s what it’s all about! 🙂

14 thoughts on “The more of less

  1. It’s lovely to see your blog again Lis, and read about all the activities you’ve been undertaking. You put me well and truly to shame with all your industriousness. I love the dyed wool, you must be itching to knit that up. I am handstitching a white on white quilt for a friend and it’s a tiresome process, but as the weather has been too hot to do much outside, it’s been a good activity to keep me busy.
    Your photo of the house, horreo etc illustrates perfectly just how steep your property is, no wonder you’re so fit!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you for your lovely comment, Jane. Yes, it’s been a busy month but I love that kind of busyness, it never feels like ‘work’ somehow. I’d forgotten how much I enjoy dyeing, it’s just frustratingly slow spinning the next skein! I admire your quilt making, I don’t think I’d have the patience, especially with no colour involved. Hope you’re enjoying your summer despite the heat and the garden is holding up okay.


  2. What a wonderful view from your seating area! It’s a blessing to be able to find happiness in simple things. I hope we are evolving as a society away from thinking store bought things are best to realising that lovingly home made can be the greatest luxury. You’re doing a wonderful job of showing us the way.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you for your lovely comment. Yes, that view is a real time-waster! You are completely right and I do feel encouraged that many people’s values are changing, although sometimes I think we are up against it in such a consumerist, throwaway society. We are truly blessed to have the chance to live like this and I’m so glad we’ve done it, every day is a joy (even when it’s pouring with rain!). 🙂

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  3. We have two benches just like that, safe only for those in the know! We actually got some local wood to build a couple of new ones, though at the moment sitting outside is not on the agenda. Back to wet and windy again. The kiwi slices look delicious. My cousin dries her apple slices on strings over the range, maybe that could work for kiwi too. We still use our 1L yoghurt pots for all kinds of storage. Now that we only use home-made kefir, I get other people to give me the pots! Another tip for recycling reduction: Take up home brewing! You’ll hardly throw out another bottle again. All of our cardboard is going as mulch in the garden, paper for fire lighting, jars get reused, we hardly use any tins. I should really find another use for the ‘overspill’ recycling box!

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    1. Well, the dried kiwi and yogurt have both definitely been huge successes this week, I’m now in danger of eating far too much of both! Don’t you find there’s a limit to how many containers you can use for storage? This is part of our problem, we have a huge cupboard already full of empty jars, plastic pots and tubs, etc, without collecting any more. We never recycle paper, cardboard or anything biodegradable, it all goes for compost and like you, we don’t buy much in tins. Mmm, homebrewing is a bit of a sticking point – we did a fair bit of it many years ago but decided the experts do it so much better! That said, reduced consumption is part of the plan, hard though it might be. We’ll just have to suffer a bit for our art!!!! 🙂


      1. I regularly run out of jars and containers! But probably because we are drying so much, especially tea herbs, bath herbs, culinary herbs, apple rings (37 jars alone), fruit leathers. In late spring I’ll suddenly have a glut of empty jars and containers, but come November they’re all in use. I think you should give the homebrewing another go. Kiwi cider, I can just imagine it ;-D

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  4. Greetings from Southern Spain to Northern Spain ! Thank you for reading my ramblings! We have had rain this week ! Estupendo ! I am visiting my kids and grand kids in Edinburgh for a few days and looking forward to returning to see what the showers have brought on in the huerto. You sound much more knowledgeable than me, I am just starting on my journey! It is life long learning! Un abrazo. Yvonne

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    1. Hola, Yvonne! It was lovely to find your blog, I think it will be fun to compare with my own ‘northern ramblings’. I loved teaching (the bit with the children, anyway) but give me life as a full-time gardener any day! I’m not sure what I’m doing much of the time, the Asturian climate has certainly been a learning curve . . . but it’s all great fun. Have a lovely time in Edinburgh, we’re actually in the UK for a few days, too, but desperate to get back to the warmth! Ha’ luego!


  5. Cold and wet here in Edinburgh and finding it strange being stuck inside with three little ones! ( they live in an apartment ). Our outdoor life in Murcia is wonderful ( although July and August can be a bit full on!). What did you teach? Like you, I loved the teaching and children/ students but don’t miss the box ticking/ bureaucratic none sense from local authority ! Like you I love the garden, cooking , writing and knitting!! Where did I find time to work?!? Enjoy the UK. Y

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    1. Oh no, that’s rubbish! Hope the weather improves, being stuck indoors is a nightmare. We’re currently not that far from you, just south of Alnwick – no connections here but Roger is running in a British Masters race in Blyth on Sunday so we’re grabbing a mini holiday. Weather really not bad so far but still feeling the cold even though Asturias is way milder than Murcia. I taught primary, always Years 5 & 6, fabulous age group but yes, the rest of it just got too much. I’m certainly having far more fun being a granny drop-out! Looking forward to watching your garden develop through the year. 🙂


      1. Back in a very warm and sunny Murcia. Do you use riego or is it not as necessary in the north of Spain? The huerto is fine when when I am away because of the watering system and my friend Anne who keeps an eye on it but our small garden is another question! My husband is not a gardener but luckily last week it rained! Ours is a patio garden with herbs etc in tubs and so far my experiments with a riego have either meant death by over watering or by not enough! I am also experimenting with upside down plastic bottles !!!
        Your sour dough starter looks fabulous, what do you use for it? I have a few recipes but have never tried it.
        What age are your grandchildren? Mine are twin girls of 2 and their big brother who is 4. I do miss them. My second daughter , their aunty , has decided that I am their ‘gangsta granny’ ( we are a merged family so they have 8 grandparents!) . As such apparently it is my duty to keep doing crazy things and not to feel guilty about it! Hope your time back in Blighty was good fun.

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      2. Welcome back to the sunshine! No need for riego here, we have regular rainfall (hence la Costa Verde!) and although temperatures can nudge into the 30s in summer, long hot spells aren’t that frequent. We’re also blessed with our water supply being direct from a mountain spring so we can use a hosepipe if necessary – although I believe in tough love, watering only to keep things alive in extreme circumstances! You must have a very different experience to cope with, we lived in Cyprus many years ago – not an easy place for a garden. I’ll email you the sourdough starter info if that’s ok, it’s slightly complex to begin with. Your grandchildren sound gorgeous and how brilliant to be a gangsta granny, so much more fun than being dull! I have to confess to being very much the same. We have a gang of five, four boys of 5, 3, 1 and 1 (cousins, not twins) and a girl of 4. Isn’t it just so much fun? : -)

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