After a short break in Barcelona we are back on the Costa del Sol. Back up the wiggly road ~ 2,000 feet up the mountain to Cómpeta. An easy but packed flight where we had the offer of being off loaded with compensation of €250 each and being put on the next flight. If seats were available. Tempting but we thought the flight was overbooked because Spain were playing in Malaga in the Euro qualifiers. So that would mean the next flight would be full too. So it was a no for us. And I was wrong about the football flight. Very few to see but a plane full of saga travellers. Me included.

We are coming up to our 6th anniversary. Not us. We have lost count. But having the house here and I just wish we had found the pueblo blanco before. My love for the village the house and the surrounding area hasn’t diminished. We are here less since a certain event which will remain nameless. So we need to make the most of our time travelling in Spain. And in the garden. And with friends.

Let’s talk about the weather. A British obsession. It’s abnormally hot for March. Bonkers hot. Easter here can be a rotten time. Cold. Wet. And it doesn’t matter if it’s March or April. But not this year. The weather is hot. There hasn’t been rain in ages and there is still no sign of rain in the forecast. Unlike the UK. Where it hasn’t stopped and the reports say that March has been the gloomiest in decades. To. Be be fair Britain is the gloomiest it has been in decades. Not just the weather. But to be fair you often hear our Spanish friends commenting on the weather too. ‘hace frio’ you hear. Whilst we are still in shorts and T-shirts. The Spanish in polo neck sweaters with scarves and gloves.

So we arrive at the house. The mimosa tree by the gate is in flower ~ it started as a shoot from one that had been cut down and is now glorious. As long as you don’t have allergies. But I’ll take an extra anti histamine as the colour and effect is awesome. And there will be armfuls picked for the house.

The garden through the gate looks great and I sigh with relief. We are lucky to have friends who water the garden when it’s needed ~ these borders are largely drought resistant ~ but believe me. They still need some water. It may only be 28* now ~ yes. Only 28* but the scorching months of July and August means the most drought tolerant plants need the occasional drink. Last summer the temperature touched 40 in the garden. So I was told. We don’t come in those months. I did in the first lockdown. Well I got caught here for 9 weeks and trust me. The sun may be out but I spent most of my days indoors. In my pants watching Netflix. Air con on. And large bills. Not to be repeated.

There are times I wish we had smelly vision for social media. The curvy path is full of freesias. As well as Clivia and rosemary. But it is the whiff of the freesia that you get as you walk up the path. Bought over the last three years from my friends at Peter Nyssen they get better and better each year. The bulbs. Peter Nyssen couldn’t get any better in my eyes. The Clivia are gorgeous and there are still a few to flower. I did have a yellow one as a pot plant decades ago. Now I want one for the garden. One dozen.

I planted a row of scented pelargonium along the path. To fight off the mozzies. Mozzies love me and last year this path was a nightmare at times. We have cut a lot back. We as in the Gardner who comes in to help. Opened up the space so hoping this year we will be in a better position. This area gets late afternoon shade but still gets as dry as Jerusalem. There are two large strelitzia Nicolai here. One has flowered since we have been here and the smaller of the two looks like it’s going to flower shortly. Excited? Hell yes.

Now the above won’t excite you. Trust me I’m ecstatic. I think this is the new flower which will no doubt flower when we aren’t there. It’s a lovely black and white bird of paradise flower. It’s a particularly gorgeous flower. Black and white large flowers.

The main part of the garden border which has a variety of plants. Yucca which I’m in fear of losing. Small palms. A bed around the olive tree with creeping Rosemary. Creeping. Not creepy. The curry plant. The olive tree and agapanthus all co exist. There is also a lilac which is struggling. I have to think again and go check it daily re flowering. If it doesn’t then it’s time to say goodbye. It’s no use having something that takes up room. And not produce.

Have I ever said I like tulips. Only once or twice. Or a thousand times. I’ll say it again. I like tulips. Here. There and down in Somerset.

These are tulip palmyra. a little short but I don’t care. They are planted in the white wall and are prone to hit by the wind. So shorter than expected are fine. A glorious colour against the white wall. They are a bit early for me to use in the UK.

I planted two pots which included these. Dutch Dancer. These two are also shorter than I’ve grown before. But I love them. I have some in Pitcombe again this year. Well hopefully. I’m yet to see the pots in person.

A bit of a contrast to tulips. My favourite agave. Ever. The foxtail agave. It’s a beauty. This one is in a pot. Obviously. You can see that. I’ve already taken two out of the pot and planted them in the garden. There are a few more to do when I have the time. My worry. That it will flower. Why? Because whilst the flower is lovely like a long fox tail as soon as it flowers the plant dies. I’ll forego the flower for now.

I love these. Lovely black aeonium which has survived the heat of the summer and the low temperatures of Spring. The one I had in London has become mush. My fault as I should have brought it in. Two bits that broke off have been stuck in the ground and are growing well. It’s one thing that I never get tired of. Seeing what we can grow in the garden here.

Hello Prickles the prickly pear. These are all dying off in our area. It’s the cochineal fly. Ravages the plant. Squash it on the white wall and you get a red blob. Get it on your white T-shirt. And it’s a nightmare to get out. I hose it down with the hose to get the fly off. Covid breaks took its toll a bit but it’s still there. And it fruits.

You know I said I like tulips. Have I also said I like agapanthus. Well I like agapanthus. The garden is away with them. Mainly blue. Some white and the latest addition popping purple. They self seed too though it does take a bit before they are mature enough to flower. I have to admit to buying 6 more this trip and planting them at the rear of the house. It’s dry. Very dry so they should thrive. Added as well a medium sized bottlebrush. A friend once commmented that she though the bottlebrush was a bit common. I think in the right place with a beautiful blue sun it’s fabulous. It’s also a great pollinator and gets covered bt bees. Gorgeous and a bee magnet. Win win.

We have two large and a small nispero growing on the bank. Also known as loquat it’s the big leaves that do it for me. The fruit is ok. But they can and do go a bit mush on the tree and don’t keep well when picked. Nispero jam is pretty lovely though.

The view from the bathroom window. The strelitzia Reginae strategically planted. But not by me but by the previous owners. Now in full flower

Thankfully so far the large pines on the bank have survived. Many around us haven’t as the water table has been so low. Also absent this year are signs of the processionary caterpillars. Vicious little bathplugs. In previous years we’ve had the nests removed from the trees but this year there weren’t anybody there wasn’t the number in the trees on the windey road either.

The first time the double doors have been open since last September. Opened so the fly screen can be checked. Cleaned and the doors closed again.

The circle of planting under the olive tree. Osteospermum. Curry plant. (Helichrysum italicum). Rosemary and some succulents ~ a gorgeous crop of Carpobrotus edulis ~ a fabulous bright pink flower on long succulent arms. Not yet in flower so next time. Oh and some freesia.

A selection of plants taste dotted around rue garden. The cactus that’s not a cactus ~ the euphorbia candelabrum.

A selection of flowers giving the garden some early colour.

But it wasn’t all gardening. It was the start of Semana Santa. Easter is a huge celebration in Spain. Not huge. Massive with celebrations and processions. Each with a different meaning. We were around for one only. Palm Sunday. The procession travels through the village to the Plaza Almijara and to the church. Each procession is very different. There is the men’s procession on Good Friday very early in the morning. The children’s procession. And one for the women of the pueblo Blanco. Plus others. It’s a spectacular sight and one that is carried out all over Spain. We were in Salamanca in 2018 and saw the one there. The first three photos are Competa 2023.

But. The weather. Let’s talk about the weather. First time the legs had been exposed since October. A drive down the wiggly road to the coast. Nerja. I’m surprised how many people know where it is. An old colleague when I told him we had a house 30 mins away knew where it was. He’d been there in his honeymoon over 30 years ago. Ex neighbours in Somerset told us they went there often and came for lunch when they were last there. It has grown on us.

Then along the coast is Torrox. Apparently has the best climate in Europe but we don’t spend enough time there to validate it. But it’s a great long walk along the promenade. It was another warm day. And no that’s not us on the beach. I don’t want to see myself in swimming trunks in March let alone make others suffer.

It wouldn’t be the same without the pueblo Blanco. It’s six years since Ian booked a trip where we unexpectedly ended up staying in Competa. We had booked Frigiliana but it was cancelled a week before we arrived and we ended up staying in Competa instead. The best cancellation ever.

These steps are always a gem. Always bright. Always full and colourful. The planted balcony. Always catches you as you turn the corner in the narrow streets. The gorgeous blur pots of Casa Beaumont with the planting changing as the seasons change.

Competa by night. Competa by day. And in a blink of an eye another visit is over.

Casa Beaumont.