Cartas à restinga 69The days of the summer season passed quickly, we needed to enjoy every minute. Clim-
bing the ingá trees, the guava trees, fish in the swamps behind the house, play cards and
sticks. The brother used to make and fly kites; the girl played house. We spent all day long
with the sea water on our bodies because mom said it was healthy; as well as it was he-
althy to make us have a cold bath at the outside shower, having the hornets watching us.
In the afternoon, mother used to guide the carriage up to Rua das Flores to buy
bread at the bakery of Mister Batista and never failed to stop by Amaro Bacalhau’s stall.
The Northeast wind always strong, a little cold, made us wear coats. We also used the
carriage to go to the sea − mom’s favorite leisure activity − or to our uncles’ or friend
families’ houses. Some other things were bought at the house door. On horseback, the
native used to bring baskets carrying prawn shrimp, crabs, homemade sweets, farm
cheeses. The call “Hey you there!” brought all of us to the porch, already anticipating the
Saturday lunch with the father − shrimps in olive oil sauce eaten with the hands, a family
tradition.
Another habit was the fattening of a turkey or a piglet to be served at the end
of the summer for lunch with some guests. Play and rides used to change when the
Northeast wind stopped. Even keeping the windows closed after the sunset, the insects
insisted on flying in and around the old lamp. A bowl of water was placed in the center of
the room. The children felt a certain pleasure in seeing the animals fall into the trap, after
all, they bothered so much. With no wind... it rained. With no sun... everyone read on the
hammock. With the rain, the grass part of the Restinga got filled with frogs and toads.
The croaking of the animals was a lullaby.
With sun returned, the full moon nights also returned, the ones that mom en-
joyed so much, or the starry ones, when dad used to teach us a little about astronomy.
“Look over there: The Three Marys!” “The Southern Cross is that cross over there. Who
can see it?” With little urban light, the sky was always a great spectable to be enjoyed.
The season ended with a sinking heart and also too many chigoe fleas which were per-
fectly removed by our great-aunt Bebela. The memories from the childhood at the Res-
tinga end here... and the girl did not even mention the lapwings!