Morning all!

Paleo this morning is a town awaking from hibernation. Though many of the supermarkets are still resolutely shut (despite hopeful signs proclaiming the opposite), the tavernas are beginning to show signs of life. Owners are outside, sweeping away the detritus of winter, washing terraces and tables clean of the accumulated dust. Builders’ merchants are thriving places, and everywhere are signs of construction, renewal, enhancement. The scent of burning olivewood punctuates our drive through the village, as various owners clear their terraces of last year’s leaves. Everyone seems to be wearing overalls, or rubber gloves, or carrying a paintbrush. The sound of saws and drills competes with the clatter of cement mixers and the buzz of a myriad mopeds, each carrying some vital missed component or supplies for the crew. There is a tangible sense of renewal and expectation in the air, as Easter approaches and with it, the promise of visitors and business and profit. Residents here have six months to create a year’s revenue.

Last night saw an unusual nocturnal visitor to our little terrace. Long after the sun had set, I noticed a small, pulsing light on the outside of one of the panes in our door. Too strong to be missed, this flash was repeated at intervals of a few seconds. Having never been so close to a firefly before, I was intrigued, and watched it from behind the glass for several minutes. Switching off the internal light magnified its apparent brightness - these miniature flashes were astonishingly bright, LED-like in their intensity. Later, our luminous visitor flew off, first down the length of our path, and then back along the lower terrace, all the time flashing his beacon and describing a convoluted path through the air, like the spark from a welder’s torch as it dances across the floor. Sadly, there was but one such exhibitionist last night, but I will wait and hope for more.