We are already looking towards 5 August, and from that day on the whole herd will join until December, both sheep and sheep, young and old. We will then know what kind of autumn the herd has had and, depending on that, what winter we will have. That is, the rams have covered the sheep, they have been in a state of pregnancy, we will have lambs and milk ...

In the meantime, what? Besides taking care that the herd is fine, the time will be prepared for the winter: emptying the herd, composting and opening the manure, cleaning it for the basses, fixing the wood, the locks... Care and sale of cheeses...

And rest. Yes, too. In the coming months it is time to devote unconcentrated work and care to the body and mind. This, in turn, will help us prepare for the next campaign. If we draw your attention, we will soon realize that life also works like this.

For years, Ondarroa has been one of the preferred rest places. Specifically, the Arrigorri hostel. You'll understand if I say we feel at home.

It's curious to get out of the house and feel that desire at home. Perhaps, the house carries it each inside and the scenes change. In our case, the peace we live in the mountains, normally, we also find it in the sea. Or we replace rockets and clouds with saltpetre. Or the lamb makes room for its tuna.

But I think there's a fundamental element when it comes to making the house: the people who welcome you. You get something as strong as invisible that at that very first moment tells you yes, that you're at home. How does it express itself? From gaze, from body, from words, from voice, from smells, from surfaces, from movements, from smile? It will surely be the accumulation of many small details, but also so important in its smallness...

The walls of Arrigorri also invite you to stop, in a welcoming way. Among other things, because the hands of those who have turned the building home tell you about the history – and the stories – of a people, in a way of being in the world. The way of living with the sea you've found in Ondarroa.

There are people who are eager and hopeful about what surrounds you. Also in the food they offer you ordered and nice and, of course, in the bed that will ensure you rest.

I don't know if I'm at the beginning of a grief or if it's a fear. In December our Ondarroa cabin will disappear. Anyone who has welcomed these pastors over the years may have the walls bare from December onwards. There, the beds will leave room to the cold nudity and the sound of the dishes will give way to the echo of the void.

Nobody has taught me how to define the house. Today, definition of a word: Arrigorri.

I wish you home too.