Spirit of Soito
Motorcyclists’ undergarments make unusual pyjamas, but with two duvets on top, they ensure a good night’s sleep. It’s January and after a year in Portugal, this is the coldest I’ve been. The granite stone house, now my home, has been empty during a long wet winter. Its damp chill permeates to the marrow of my bones.
Upon waking, my eyes rest upon a tiny woman. Her skin clings in fragile desperation to her slight skeletal form. Dressed in a loose, greyish salmon-pink gown, it provides a degree of stature. Wisps of aged hair straggle like water-weeds escaping the dam of a navy-blue scarf upon her head. She regards me with an expression of curiousity through bright grey eyes. Apologetic on being discovered, she takes a small step back from the bed.
“Hello,” I whisper.
I’ve never met a ghost before.
Our brief meeting instills a duty of care towards this gentle soul and her former home, Casal do Soito.
Dedicated to the Spirit of Soito.
Latest from the Blog
It’s six months since I met the Spirit of Soito and she has either moved on or remains elusive. Since the meeting, the guy-with-the-antlers (Verd) joined me and we’ve been in a period of reflection, waiting to see what our house and land want to be. We’re strangers in a strange land, though a mighty… Continue Reading →
It’s not unusual to hear alarm calls from a bird or two as we pass close to nests. It is especially usual if a cat passes. It is however, more unusual if a garden full of birds create a morning chorus of alarm. I go out to chase off any cats that might be bothering… Continue Reading →
A new home is a sketchpad of possibilities. Strip back the has been of the house and there’s a wealth of could be. Of course the could be is restricted by practicalities, but why spoil the fun of the process by imagining those too early. We’ll not spoil the fun. The mystery of what could… Continue Reading →