The almond trees are in bloom.
This is a gorgeous time in the Algarve, when the winter rains give way to an explosion of springtime color, with all of the plants anxious to flower, pollinate and set seed (or fruit) before the summer drought arrives.
Every year, the first one out of the gates is the almond tree. For about 49 weeks of the year, it’s a rather nondescript feature of the landscape. But for the other three weeks, it flames into a beauty with no rivals. Alone amongst the leafless trees, it shines with the radiance of sun on white petals.
So iconic are the almond trees to the Algarve that they gave rise to one of the region’s most romantic stories. There are quite a few variations on it, but the theme is always the same…
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Many centuries ago, before Portugal existed and the Al-Gharb [the original name of the Algarve] belonged to the Arabs, a great sultan lived in a city called Xelb. One day, the orderly pattern of his life was thrown into disarray when a line of prisoners from a great battle was led into his presence. Among the prisoners was a beautiful woman with blue eyes, fair skin and light hair — an exotic presence that could not help but capture his attention. When he questioned her, she said her name was Gilda, and that she was from the snow-covered lands of the north.
Unable to see her in chains, the sultan gave Gilda her freedom, and then set about conquering her heart. His own was lost in the process, and one day he confessed his love and asked her to marry him.
They were very happy together, until Gilda fell ill for no apparent reason. Distraught, the sultan searched far and wide for the source of her illness, offering a great reward to anyone who could cure her. Many tried, but none succeeded. Gilda grew weaker.
At last an old woman asked for an audience. She, too, was a captive from the far north, and she promised to solve the mystery of Gilda’s illness. Gravely, she told the sultan that his wife suffered from a great heartsickness: she missed the snows of her homeland.
“But what can I do?” cried the sultan. “It does not snow in the Al-Gharb!”
“You must plant almond trees,” said the old woman. “Thousands upon thousands of them, until they carpet the valley and the hillsides surrounding your castle. When they bloom, they will look as if the land were covered in snow.”
The sultan did as she suggested, planting almond trees not only in his valley, but throughout the entire Al-Gharb. Months went by, but as the trees strengthened and grew, Gilda worsened. And then, one early spring morning, the sultan looked out his window and gasped in surprise.
The almond trees had burst into bloom, and indeed it appeared as if the entire valley were covered in snow. He ran to Gilda’s quarters, lifted her from her bed and carried her to the window. “Look,” he whispered.
Gilda stared in wonder at the beauty before her. “It is the snow of my land!” she said joyously. Even as she spoke her strength began to return, and by the time the last petal had dropped, she was fully recovered. She went on to live a long and happy life with her sultan — a life punctuated each spring by the renewing miracle of the almond blossoms.
As a northerner who is getting real tired of snow this year I really appreciate the tale of the almond trees in Algarve. Oh how I wish that the blossom of almond trees was what I’m seeing in my winter white garden.