Between Memory and Myth
The history of La Buixeda is ancient and shrouded in mystery.
Beside the old stone house stood a medieval tower, and the hand carved rocks still lay scattered around the house to this day.
There is an old ermita (stone chapel) dedicated to St. Agustine at the entrance to the property that is laden with secrets and powerful earth energy. It was first mentioned in 16th century texts, although a historian who came said its origins are certainly much older.
I find it intriguing how little is known about this mystical land known as La Buixeda. We’ve enquired at town halls, with historians, with neighbours and village elders, but the stories that come back are more reminiscent of myth than memory.
It wouldn’t be surprising if people lived on this land for thousands of years, due to its sweet spring water and strategic location with stunning views.
About 20km away there is a Roman archeological site called Labitolosa from the 1st Century.
In 1083 the kings of Aragon conquered Graus and the region from the Moores.
In the 16th and 17th centuries Spain went through a Golden Age, and during this economic peak many noble houses were established in the area. It is likely that the main house at La Buixeda was built or at least amplified during this period.
During the Civil War Graus became a libertarian stronghold, known for anarchism and social change.
By the 1960s, the region suffered the same fate as many rural areas of Spain, where workers left their ancestral homes and villages for the cities, factories, and the promise of economic prosperity.
Since then properties and entire villages have been left abandoned and a natural re-wilding has occurred. Mother Nature has retaken what was always hers to begin with. The forests have returned. Like at La Buixeda, most of the property is completely wild again.
The Beekeeper and the Three Brothers
There is an old beekeeper named Carlos who has set up some hives at La Buixeda. He likes La Buixeda for his hives because the air is clean and free of pesticides and the bees give delicious rosemary honey.
Too bad I’m allergic to honey.
Carlos is in his late 70s, he’s suffered a stroke, a heart attack and cancer, and yet I sometimes find him walking from town (3kms away) to check on his bees. He’s a remarkable example of the resilience and inner strength of the people of his generation who live around here. And he has some stories.
He remembers La Buixeda when the forests were burned to the ground to make coal. He told me a story during that time of the three brothers of La Buixeda.
The two younger brothers went out felling and burning trees from dawn to dusk. It was hot, hard work. They would dig around each tree one by one and uproot them with the help of a mule.
One day as the mule pulled hard against an old oak tree the roots flew up into the air. And there exposed before their eyes was something truly remarkable: a chest full of treasure, coins, gold. They couldn’t believe their fortune. They laughed. They cried. They began to dream.
Then the middle brother said to the younger one, “Let’s celebrate and rest, we’ll have some wine and lunch and a siesta. We’ll come back in the afternoon. But let’s keep this between us for now.” The younger brother obliged, and they went back to the house in glee.
In the afternoon the younger brother went back into the forest. But the treasure was gone. And so was his brother.
