Á ameixeira os anos trouxéronlle amáis de liques e musgos para abrigar as pólas, o poder de ler os soños e pesadelos femininos.
Aínda que xa é unha árbore vella, tivo coma min a sorte de coñecer únicamente as dores da paz. Ela non nacera aínda cando a señora da casa era só unha meniña de nove anos asustada mentres as balas batían contra a fachada.
Esta é a casa das mulleres, anque hoxe só queda en ela a derradeira da liñaxe, e a eira arredor encheuse de recunchos baleiros onde as follas de carballo xogan á roda, cóllense da man do vento e perséguense unhas ás outras cun louco frenesí, como nenas no pátio da escola.
A ameixeira ergueuse en protectora da casa, por se un día volveran os disparos, parar coas suas pólas vestidas de musgo os proxectiles antes de que puidesen volver bater contra o marco da ventá e asustar as nenas indefensas.
Comecei a podala o inverno pasado, convertinme así no humilde servidor do Vixía no Centeo.
A casa tiña postos que cubrir e eu fun o escollido.
The Women’s house
In addition to lichens and mosses to cover the branches, the years have brought the plum tree the power to read women’s dreams and nightmares.
Although it is already an old tree, it was as lucky as me to know only the pains of peace. It hadn’t been born yet when the lady of the house was just a nine-year-old girl scared as bullets hit the façade.
This is the house of the women, although today only the last of the lineage remains in it, and the threshing floor around it is filled with empty corners where the oak leaves play Ring a Ring o’ Roses, while holding on to the hand of the wind and they chase each other with a mad frenzy, like girls in the school yard.
The plum tree established itself as the protector of the house, in case one day the shots came back, it would stop the projectiles with their moss-covered branches before they could hit the window frame again and scare the helpless girls.
I started pruning it last winter, so I became the humble servant of the Catcher in the Rye.
The house had posts to fill and I was the chosen one.
abel abilheira 
The winter tree is beautiful, like a work of art.
Me gustaLe gusta a 2 personas
Without its leaves it can be seen the group of blue tits that come to look for food among the mosses that cover the twigs. It is a very beautiful show, when you like birds!
Me gustaLe gusta a 1 persona
Yes, I love to watch birds. They are very pleasant to look at.
Me gustaLe gusta a 2 personas