Santa Maria, Açores
Someone once said that with age comes dignity. If one were to choose Santa Maria to test this hypothesis, the conclusion would show with certainty the statement to be true. Of the nine islands in the archipelago, it is the oldest both geologically and historically. But time has not brought a crumbling of ancient ruins, instead an air of poise radiates from its matronly form.
Yes, she can tell tales of a rambunctious youth when pirates stormed her shores, when she hid her grain from their pillaging, and captured the buccaneer foe. She chased poor Columbus and his weary men back to Portugal’s ports but carefully nurture the site of their prayers as the centuries march away.
As the years went by, stone walls grew like wrinkles upon her face, carving the land into fields for agriculture, livestock and grapes. Small communities mushroomed both inland and on the shore, their whitewashed homes with red tile roofs looking similar but not alike. For what human could resist adding color to his or her life? These hues and tones were not randomly placed like a riotously crazy quilt but traditionally were in purposeful patches that could be read much like a book. One simply needed to understand the language that it was written in. Green trim meant an agricultural based community. Red was the ocher color of clay used for pots and tiles. Where woad was cultivated for indigo dyes, and lichens collected and used for fuchsia tints, the homes sported a cobalt blue on doors, shutters, and sashes. Today, all three colors stand side-by-side facing the bay of São Lourenço. Is this a statement of heritage or simply the tasseled edge of Santa Maria’s shawl?
The threads of blue unraveled painting the ocean’s waves. Whitecaps danced on the surface and drew our eyes to the depths where cobalt blue became turquoise green that erupted skyward as charcoal grey fusiform shapes. Riding the pressure wave on our bow, bottlenose dolphins leapt. Behind us Santa Maria slowly retreated beyond the horizon to stand in ever-vigilant watch at the edge of the group of islands.
Someone once said that with age comes dignity. If one were to choose Santa Maria to test this hypothesis, the conclusion would show with certainty the statement to be true. Of the nine islands in the archipelago, it is the oldest both geologically and historically. But time has not brought a crumbling of ancient ruins, instead an air of poise radiates from its matronly form.
Yes, she can tell tales of a rambunctious youth when pirates stormed her shores, when she hid her grain from their pillaging, and captured the buccaneer foe. She chased poor Columbus and his weary men back to Portugal’s ports but carefully nurture the site of their prayers as the centuries march away.
As the years went by, stone walls grew like wrinkles upon her face, carving the land into fields for agriculture, livestock and grapes. Small communities mushroomed both inland and on the shore, their whitewashed homes with red tile roofs looking similar but not alike. For what human could resist adding color to his or her life? These hues and tones were not randomly placed like a riotously crazy quilt but traditionally were in purposeful patches that could be read much like a book. One simply needed to understand the language that it was written in. Green trim meant an agricultural based community. Red was the ocher color of clay used for pots and tiles. Where woad was cultivated for indigo dyes, and lichens collected and used for fuchsia tints, the homes sported a cobalt blue on doors, shutters, and sashes. Today, all three colors stand side-by-side facing the bay of São Lourenço. Is this a statement of heritage or simply the tasseled edge of Santa Maria’s shawl?
The threads of blue unraveled painting the ocean’s waves. Whitecaps danced on the surface and drew our eyes to the depths where cobalt blue became turquoise green that erupted skyward as charcoal grey fusiform shapes. Riding the pressure wave on our bow, bottlenose dolphins leapt. Behind us Santa Maria slowly retreated beyond the horizon to stand in ever-vigilant watch at the edge of the group of islands.
