We pulled off on a little shoulder of the N222 as we were heading to Porto, a final look back at the Vale do Côa, Spain in the distance. The beautiful Iberian magpies kept rising from the grassy edges of the road. Through the villages devoted to wine, vineyards planted on every hill above the Douro River, through olive groves, past tiny chapels perched on the very tops of mountains, round dovecotes, elegant quintas. We handed back the rental car and came downtown to the same hotel where we stayed last year and they gave us the same suite, the soft colours so welcoming, the feral cats sunning themselves on the sloping roof next door.
Tonight it’s dinner and fado. Wish you were here.
xxx
...Theresa Kishkan 
Oh the lovely light!
It’s so beautiful! Everything glows!
sent from inner space
Wish I was there too! Snowing all day here in Ontario. Your photos of the vineyards always make me think of all the hard labour that went into making the terraces.
Yes, really hard work. Every bit of it. And most of the vineyards look so tidy too, so well-pruned, cared for. I saw an old man on a wooden ladder, shaping an olive tree as we passed his grove — and behind him, dozens more trees to attend to…