Beneath it, spreading like a verdant shadow, lies the one remaining strip of green on this side of the mountain.
Everything else lies withered by the unforgiving Andalucian July sun.
Perhaps though its origins reflect the simpler times of its creation. I like to think those ancient people were thanking the mountain for the iron rich spring which blesses the ground here and has never been known to fail.
Whatever the reason, the ancestors lie close at this point and the veil between past and present is gossamer thin.