For most of the year, the roof terrace is very much part of our living space. It serves as our dining room, patio garden, hide-away and observation deck. First thing in the morning, it is a lovely place to watch the sun coming up over the mountains toward Nerja. Looking over to La Maroma, the early morning light turns her flanks a rosy, pale tangerine colour, with deep shadows in the clefts and ripples. In the valley, the dogs bark their early morning roll call, and somewhere a donkey is braying. As the sun gets higher, the light creeps down the hillsides opposite, turning them from grey to green.
At breakfast time, we can watch Antonio working on his terraces below. At some times of the year he will plough the land, using a traditional plough, pulled by his mule. At others, he will be planting or harvesting beans and onions, tomatoes and aubergines, and a couple of patches of winter feed for the mule.
Elevenses are a good opportunity to sit with a cup of tea or a cool drink and listen to the ladies having loud, rapid conversations in the street. Around this time the fish man arrives in his little yellow van, blaring his horn and shouting his wares: Come on girls! Maria! I’ve got whitebait and sardines. Mackerel and cod, all fresh! Come on girls! Maria! Come and see what I’ve got for you!
We eat our lunch up there, sitting in the shade of the bamboo awning, watching the world and counting the tomatoes growing on the vines we have trained up the railings. The sun comes over to the front of the house, and we retire into the cool of the house during the hottest part of the day. Any washing that needs to dry is hung on the lines under the awning to prevent the sun fading it. It will be dry in a couple of hours.
Early evening is a time for watering any plants that have dried out during the day. It is amazing how quickly the tomatoes begin to wilt, and the chillies, mint and basil need plenty of water to keep them flourishing.
As the sun sinks behind the mountains toward Salares and the light fades, the space takes on a new character. The flowers that brighten it during the day fade into a dim blur, and the view changes as the terraces of crops below merge into the darkness. Bats zip about in the twilight, and the moon begins to drift over from behind Cómpeta. The Church down at Corumbela is lit up with a gentle orangey-yellow light against the purple sky, and the house lights in the villages down in the valley twinkle. Lamps on spikes glow white in the flowerpots, and along the front of the awning, a row of paper lanterns shed a gentle multicoloured light.
We have a couple of metal lanterns that hold short, fat candles, and strings of fairy lights like small strawberries are strung under the bamboo of the awning. They are solar powered, and will glow blue, red, green and yellow right through to the morning. I must confess I had my doubts when I ordered them, but they arrived safely, neatly packed with their solar panels already connected. They were easy to install, and have worked perfectly. I wish I had thought of getting them sooner.
There is something very relaxing about sitting out there, often with friends, sharing a meal, a few bottles of wine, telling stories, laughing at each other’s jokes and making music together. The scent from the Dama de Noche wafts up from the plant outside the front door, and the grunting and snoring at our feet reminds us that Poppy is down there, her head resting on someone’s foot, catching up on her beauty sleep after a long day playing, investigating and doing all the important dog things that would not wait until tomorrow.
