I think I can safely say that the Carmen de los Martires garden in Granada was our favorite of the entire trip. We visited it twice and built an entire future around it, moving ourselves and all our loved ones in, if only in our imaginations.
Let me see, Mom & Mike were in charge of the vegetable and herb gardens, Dad and Audrey made the beer and cheese to sell in our artisanal shop, Patrick, our brother, took care of the vineyard, Mary made it all beautiful with flowers, plants and topiary, and me? Mistress of the estate, of course. I organized brunch on the terrace every Sunday. Also, party planner.
I think of all the places we visited this felt the most like 'our place', our own special, private sanctuary. It played to the keenest of our fairytale fancies, both past and future. I'd go back to Granada for these quiet gardens alone.
We were completely taken with this large pond on the property which held the perfect fantasy castle of younger years. Accessible only by footbridge or rowboat, we both found ourselves mentally playing "I captured the castle", dreaming of dress-up and sibling rivalry, of who would conquer the tower, Mary, myself or Patrick?
In our daydream the plots of soil below would make for the perfect vegetable garden: tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers of all colours and variety, potatoes, squash, beans and peas & every kind of green. Basil, mint, rosemary, coriander, sage, thyme, lovage, chamomile, parsley and anise, dill and marjoram, all perfume.
My mom still tells a story of a lusty peacock who, when I was just a little girl, simply couldn't get enough of my red shirt. Every time I approached he flashed his grandeur like nothing else mattered, teal dazzling, feathers flaunting, his significance on show. It became a bit of a boast for me: "any peacock will parade its perfection if I'm around."
Rarely do I come into contact with peacocks, though I think Mary will attest that the main cock at Carmen de los Martires either thought I was a threat or a delightful mate because after whispering sweet bird nothings into his ear he displayed his glory for all the world to see.
25 peacock photos later....
We thought this perfect little villa on the hill would suit Patrick very nicely, especially as it looks out over the olives and vineyards:
And the parties (which, ps. you're all invited to) we'd have them somewhere around here:
Oh dreams, what would we do without you?
In our daydream the plots of soil below would make for the perfect vegetable garden: tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers of all colours and variety, potatoes, squash, beans and peas & every kind of green. Basil, mint, rosemary, coriander, sage, thyme, lovage, chamomile, parsley and anise, dill and marjoram, all perfume.
My mom still tells a story of a lusty peacock who, when I was just a little girl, simply couldn't get enough of my red shirt. Every time I approached he flashed his grandeur like nothing else mattered, teal dazzling, feathers flaunting, his significance on show. It became a bit of a boast for me: "any peacock will parade its perfection if I'm around."
Rarely do I come into contact with peacocks, though I think Mary will attest that the main cock at Carmen de los Martires either thought I was a threat or a delightful mate because after whispering sweet bird nothings into his ear he displayed his glory for all the world to see.
25 peacock photos later....
We thought this perfect little villa on the hill would suit Patrick very nicely, especially as it looks out over the olives and vineyards:
And the parties (which, ps. you're all invited to) we'd have them somewhere around here:
Oh dreams, what would we do without you?
1 comment:
Everything looks so beautiful.
Including you two ladies.
S*
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