Andorinhas

"One swallow doesn’t make a summer”, we tend to say in Ireland, but here its more like one swallow doesn’t make a spring”! Way before they hit the shores of freezing Northern Ireland, they’re already flitting around the Anema’s farmhouse in the Alentejo by the end of February. Their shrill calls to one another is a clear signal that winter’s on its way out. They’re a bother to Elisabeth building their nests in the eaves above her front door and decorating the porch with their droppings, but pure joy to watch.

They’re called “andorinhas” here in Portuguese, and there’s a lovely little song by the Portuguese group “Madredeus” currently going around in my head called “Andorinha de Primavera” (check the link below). Sometimes, like yesterday, I’m just overwhelmed by the privilege of living. I was down by the gardens of the Calouste Gulbenkian Museum near the city centre to meet someone who didn’t show up. I was about to return home, when I thought - well here I am in these amazingly beautiful surroundings. Why don’t I just have some time for me. So I did.

Wonderful. Just me and the swallows. Wheeling about overhead, screaming their joy to be alive. And the ducks. And the doves. Dozing on the grass in the warm sunshine. And God. And one or two locals on their lunch break. And a party of school children. And the sunshine. And the buzz of the nearby traffic. And the sense that I’m alive. That I’m chosen, loved and with a great and awesome purpose to be here in this place, at this time. What a privilege to be alive

Little black winged swallow where are you going?
You who fly so high
Come, take me with you up to the heavens,
For from there I will greet my love

Oh little swallow
of Spring
Oh how I wish I could also fly
how great it would be

Oh little swallow
of Spring
to also fly.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m0jOgx4CafE