Tapestries of colours
Harvests of grain, fields open to the air. Lavender, thyme, marjoram and thistles, grow between the stone confusing the landscape of colours and scents that seem like art.
In these plains of Campo de Montiel, of abundant sun, where the skies of those moments of maximum splendour possess its valleys and hills dazzling the firmament of indigo and white, as our facades painted as a perfect imitation of nature.
Each scorching sunray of our Land penetrates every blade of grass, each and every herb and weed, in each flower, to find the perfect contrast of colour for the poppy, for the daises of our fields, for the unfathomable beauty of the fruit trees, olive and kermes oak trees. Speckled patches from almonds in flower, oaks and vines, in a countryside and infinite sky like the horizon and the sea that fuse together. The green is greener in the bright and clear light, the grain is similar in brightness to the splendour of gold in August.
Looking like the sole owner in this orchard of the spring, the autumn brings us other displays of special shades, and it lulls to sleep, not without being a thing of beauty in the cruel and hard winter which floods the homeland with the rain which blends wild and wet aromas.
We don’t deprive ourselves of anything, neither in the rustic and wide harshness of the passing of the seasons throughout these beautiful lands.
The light is always the leading character of the beauty of these lands that reveal the majestic fields of tapestries. Lands of red clay, or white, yellow and black earth, sown with so much sweat of bread and hunger, like the pottery workshops that still exist, although scarce, in expert but chapped hands of our local artisans, producing the form of a jar, a pot, a terracotta tile… all with the same forms and colours of our land.
Harvests of grain, fields open to the air. Lavender, thyme, marjoram and thistles, grow between the stones confusing the landscape of colours and scents that seem like art.
Her orchards with the aroma of fig trees, surrounded by streams of smooth boulders that gradually overflow or dry up, depending on the years, if bountiful or burdensome.
Place of transit, Place of location, in the middle of the Peninsula and in the middle of “Nowhere”. By being so far from the world it is able to conserve its importance and its special gifts.
Mª José Manzanares Castellanos.
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