Azahar.... is the anient Moorish word for Orange Blossom.
Our first impression of the cortijo was the oranges. Orange trees dripping with oranges, and it was love at first sight. Never mind that it was almost 5 pm on a November afternoon and the light was fading and we could barely see inside the single room of the cortijo.
Never mind that the agent did not have a key to the outside wash room.
Never mind that the plot was a complete tip and there was an enormous water tank attached to the single room cortijo.
It was the oranges and the anticipation of all the richness of that heavenly scent that stopped us and set us down where now we are, in the middle of our seventh orange blossom time.
If ever there was a place to dream, it has to be sitting under an orange grove in full blossom.
Sit, stay awhile. Listen to the birds in the tree tops. Listen to the sleepy hum of the bees as they fly about pollinating the blossom ensuring the trees bear lots of fruit. Feel the warmth of the spring sunshine dappling through the leaves and let the oh so sweet perfume of the orange blossom seep into your dreams.