We transgressed private property lines. No one chased us away. In the courtyard a tile-work depicting the gathering of crops. Possibly the gleaning. In a courtyard of over abundance generosity was possible. The stranger was welcome.
The near ripe pommegrants, the lemons, the flowers, the herbs and the gardeners care all point to a loving kindness toward people, land and animals. Margaret points to the town of Silve on the tile piece. This is not her courtyard.
The resting bench an invitation and then in the church, a few steps down hill, a resting altar-piece — a sense of love and care where the caretaker and the beloved have interchangeable roles. It is amazing how immigrants have two choices. Care for the stranger or live with hunger and fear.