Eltitoguay
Well-known member
...Pueeeee...o cambias de Santo, o de religión, o...Too bad for the cousins who stay in the sun ... Somewhat cloudy appeared here , the worst is the humidity .
Take the opportunity to get up early, do homework and fresh air.
The plants will not move from the site
The chickens seek the shade of the tomatoes
The children and the canids to the river a dip in very cool water and to fish for a while
Primo...Le puesto una vela al Santo a ver si se lleva la bolsa de calor sahariano a noringlaterra , pero no me ha hecho falta encenderla
Salu2
Hoy en la vertiente Norte de Sierra Morena, he tenido las misma temperaturas que los campamentos de refugiados saharahuies de Tinduf , y he superado ampliamente a Tombuctú en Malí.
Y aún así, nos han vuelto a ganar en la vertiente Sur, y a solo 80 kilómetros al Sureste, Andújar a llegado a los 46°C...a la sombra.
...Well, you're going to have to change your Saint, or your religion, or...
Today on the northern slope of Sierra Morena, I had the same temperatures as the Saharahui refugee camps in Tindouf, and I have far exceeded Timbuktu in Mali. And even so, they have get over to us again on the South slope, and only 80 kilometers to the Southeast, Andújar has reached 115°F......in the shadow.
...Aunque ya te vale a ti también, mi primo, irle a prender velas al pobre Santo, como si no cayera ya bastante fuego del cielo, y encima para pedirle que me refresque el tiempo, cachondo. Si le hubieras puesto una horchata de esa vuestra bien bien bien fresquita...
Ahora en serio, todo esto me recuerda una vez cuando siendo niño, en un pueblo extremeño del Valle del Guadiana (dónde por cierto nació siglos atrás Pedro de Valdivia, conquistador de Chile, y a unos 15 km de la casa natal de Hernán Cortés; que no falte el salséo cultural), una tremenda sequía y calor sahariano amenazaban con reducir a polvo toda cosecha de tomates de su fértil vega.
Mucha gente del pueblo acudió al cura de iglesia, para rogarle que les permitieran sacar en procesión rogativa por las calles del pueblo, a determinado Santo de la iglesia, para rogar por la anhelada lluvia...
El cura, tras escuchar a la gente reunida ante la puerta de su iglesia, miró sólo un instante hacia el cielo: Sol cayendo fundido en cascada a través de un interminable desierto azul cobalto, hasta caer a plomo y como plomo fundido contra las losas de piedra de la plaza, y rebotar amplificado en onda expansiva contra las paredes de cal blanca de las casas...
-"Hijos míos..."- se dirigió a sus feligreses, a los que apenas podía distinguir entre la explosión de luz y la vibracíon/ondulación del aire entre ellos por efecto las ondas térmicas y la calima...
-"...Hijos míos; sí vosotros queréis sacar el Santo en procesión por las calles, por mi no hay problema... Pero ya os digo yo que mucha pinta de llover, no tiene...-"
...Although it's worth it to you too, my cousin, to go light candles for poor Santo, as if there wasn't enough fire already falling from heaven, and on top of that, to ask him to cool off the weather for me, horny. If you had put an horchata of yours, well, well, very fresh...
Now seriously, all this reminds me of a time when I was a child, in a town in Extremadura in the Guadiana Valley (where, by the way, Pedro de Valdívia, conqueror of Chile, was born centuries ago, and about 15 km from the birthplace of Hernán Cortés; that don't miss the cultural gossip), a tremendous drought and Saharan heat threatened to reduce to dust all the tomato harvest in its fertile plain.
Many people from the town went to the priest of the church, to beg him to be allowed to take a certain Saint of the church in a begging procession through the streets of the town, to beg for the long-awaited rain... The priest, after listening to the people gathered at the door of his church, looked up for an instant at the sky: Sun cascading molten through an endless cobalt blue desert, until it fell plumb and like molten lead against the flagstones. stone of the square, and bounce amplified in expansive wave against the whitewashed walls of the houses...
-"My children..."- he addressed his parishioners, whom he could barely distinguish between the explosion of light and the vibration of the air between them due to the thermal waves and the Saharian haze...
-"My children; if you want to take the Saint in procession through the streets, it's no problem for me... But I'm telling you that it doen't looks like...,It doesn't look like it's raining..."-
Comentario aparte merece lo de enviarles este "regalito" a los ingleses... Primo, que va a pensar de nosotros nuesto primo adoptivo Del Monte, o l@s forer@s británicos, en general...: Primero les enviamos la Grande e Felicísima Armada (lo de "Invencible" se lo inventaron los ingleses); luego a Leonor, Princesa de Asturias y las Demás Españas, y ahora quieres que les endosémos tambien la flama sahariana... Mejor sigamos sólo con los envíos de trailers cargados de cajas para fruta, con fruta solo en la parte visible, je...
A separate comment is worth sending this "little gift" to the English... Cousin, what is our adoptive cousin Del Monte going to think of us, or the British foreigners, in general...: First we sent them the Big One and Very Happy Armada ("Invincible" was invented by the English); then to Leonor, Princess of Asturias and the Other Spains, and now you want us to endorse the Saharan flame as well... Better let's just continue with shipments of trailers loaded with boxes for fruit, with fruit only in the visible part, heh...
Eso sí, verte sufrir la humedad del Turia, es mi consuelo de tontos ante "la caloraca"... Solo tengo que mirar en cauce seco del riachuelo local, invadido de cardos, pitas y chumberas, para reconfortarme, je, je... ¡Que lo sigais disfrutando!
Y saludos al primo Del Monte.
Of course, seeing you suffer from the humidity of the Turia, is my fool's consolation before "the heat"... I only have to look at the dry bed of the local stream, invaded by thistles, pitas and prickly pears, to comfort myself, ha ha .. . May you continue to enjoy it!
And regards to Cousin Del Monte.
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