I’m no gardener and it therefore goes without saying, no farmer. I’ve never had to live off the land and in all honesty, don’t consider land for the purpose of providing an income. The property I bought had the garden neglected for six years and as one might imagine, an awful lot of work therefore needs to be undertaken. So much so, that last night I was so exhausted that I fell asleep early only to wake at about four in the morning to find that I’d left the garage door open to the world and also, the back door. All still safe, I’m please to say.
Not having the experience I need so desperately I’m dependent on what I see around me and also, the likes of Youtube for guidance in my new found work as a gardener come farmer working the land. I know some Dutch people that cut their olive trees back big time. They have been here in Portugal for a couple of years now.
Whilst driving around a few days ago I could see that a large expanse of olive growing land had also been trimmed to a great extent. Using such for guidance, I trimmed an awful lot off my thirty seven olive trees. Sorry, not all, as I though I still had a few to do but it now seems not. Or not to the same extent. There was a point where I thought, does all this works pay enough to olive growers? The answer may be, I worked too hard on the olive trees.
I have a wonderful neighbour that has provided some guidance in the trimming of many fruit trees. I have not seen him for three days now. That said, he visited me today following having a bad spell and spending much time over the previous three days resting in bed. He’s a wonderful elderly man that provides me with guidance that can be misinterpreted by me. Same old story with me. Upon his visit today I thought he’d give me the thumbs up on what I’d done with the olive trees. I was horrified because all he kept saying was my name, time and time again in disbelief over my poor efforts with the olive trees. Ultimately, I’ve been told off by my neighbour.
The long and the short is, another lesson learnt. It would seem that I’ve trimmed the olive trees far too harshly to provide a good crop for the next two years. Having said this, aesthetically, they probably look better. Now, good old Senhor Da Silver has informed me the work was not good and I sure can appreciate what he says, as he, without doubt knows far better than me.
In some respects I truly feel a fool, but I have little doubt that my wonderful neighbour, though horrified, will have the good grace to understand that my attempts were with good intentions. He did make it clear I should have asked for more advice, but being British, one does not pester their neighbours. So, the instruction now, is no more cutting of olive trees. Late this afternoon during his visit he stood by to help me trim a fig tree. Something I never knew I even had. Thank you, good neighbour.
So another day has drawn to a close and I’m knackered again, but at least I now understand I don’t need to half kill any more olive trees. And I was feeling so good with what I was doing. Perhaps, I’ll fair better with the tomatoes I’m growing from seed. At least, as seen left, it’s not killed as of yet. Perhaps bugs will assist me on that one.