The Olive Harvest
If nothing else, I hope you might enjoy a break from the national and world news if you
stay with this story. I’m guilty of getting caught up in the news myself, but it rarely seems to
make one happy. So I offer the following which is completely devoid of anything political or the
economy!
The olive yield in my part of Calabria, like the grape harvest this year will be less than hoped
for. A long dry summer took its toll on the fruit yield: smaller grapes and olives. That doesn’t
change the amount of work required, just the payoff. Perhaps because she held off for the
summer Mother Nature is causing it to rain with a terrible vengeance today, affording me the
time to write. The next story might include an Ark!
Coaxing olives out of a tree isn’t exactly a challenging endeavor, perhaps even simpler than
shooting fish in a barrel. That is not to say, some folks aren’t better at it than others. I myself
seem to improve with each harvest. My focus this year is on simplicity and efficiency. With
over a hundred trees to work, one has to ration each motion, to dislodge the maximum number
of olives possible from their stems without taking leaves or twigs along with them, down to the
nets spread on the ground below. While an hour or so is usually sufficient to empty an average
tree with two or three of us working together like a well practiced team it is still hard work.
La Prossimo? I call out as I finish my work on the first tree, now free of its olives. Which tree is
next Vincenzo? Facciamo quello la.. He points to the tree that he deems as having the most
mature olives.. Va bene! I respond and move out. Walking up to the next tree, anticipating the
buckets of olives that I will soon be pulling from its heavy branches inspires me. The tree is
ready, waiting patiently to be freed of its burden with its branches cascading down, laden with
olives. That is why I’m here.
With caution, I walk around the perimeter of the tree checking the netting that has been placed
below it to be sure no open spots will let the olives reach the soil. I pick my spot of entry, and
stand to face the tree like Don Quixote before a windmill, ready to engage! My eyes search for
the best place to begin stripping the tree. I choose the opening that will give me the advantage
I seek. Looking to the ground, I advance one of my feet forward towards the center of the tree,
gingerly placing it without stepping on any olives and leaning inward with one arm reach for a
branch to steady myself while raising the other to the top of the branch I have chosen to begin
working.
Like so many other things in life, picking olives soon teaches us that the relaxed softer gentler
approach wins the day. Actually, picking olives may not be the best expression to describe the
activity. The process is more like coaxing milk from a cow. First the branch to be cleaned must
be exposed, separating it from others to the extent possible. Then with a semi closed hand in
the shape of a small rake, the olives are captured and released from the tree as the hand
moves down from the top to the bottom of the branch. Dozens of olives will drop like silver
dollars from the old slot machines to the net below.
After all of the olives have been culled from the outside branches, the next phase requires
reworking the same area, but deeper into the tree. Phase two requires that the clean outer
branches be lifted and held aside as the process is repeated on the inner limbs until the entire
section is clear. A careful step back to the perimeter allows for a break before stepping a few
feet to the side and repeating the series of intrusions until the tree has been circumnavigated...
All of this time being careful not to step on a single olive. No sense pressing the olives into the
ground. Better wait for the press at the fontoio which will give back the liquid green gold we all
so love.
Basta,
Hope you enjoy your day.
Ciao,
Martino
stay with this story. I’m guilty of getting caught up in the news myself, but it rarely seems to
make one happy. So I offer the following which is completely devoid of anything political or the
economy!
The olive yield in my part of Calabria, like the grape harvest this year will be less than hoped
for. A long dry summer took its toll on the fruit yield: smaller grapes and olives. That doesn’t
change the amount of work required, just the payoff. Perhaps because she held off for the
summer Mother Nature is causing it to rain with a terrible vengeance today, affording me the
time to write. The next story might include an Ark!
Coaxing olives out of a tree isn’t exactly a challenging endeavor, perhaps even simpler than
shooting fish in a barrel. That is not to say, some folks aren’t better at it than others. I myself
seem to improve with each harvest. My focus this year is on simplicity and efficiency. With
over a hundred trees to work, one has to ration each motion, to dislodge the maximum number
of olives possible from their stems without taking leaves or twigs along with them, down to the
nets spread on the ground below. While an hour or so is usually sufficient to empty an average
tree with two or three of us working together like a well practiced team it is still hard work.
La Prossimo? I call out as I finish my work on the first tree, now free of its olives. Which tree is
next Vincenzo? Facciamo quello la.. He points to the tree that he deems as having the most
mature olives.. Va bene! I respond and move out. Walking up to the next tree, anticipating the
buckets of olives that I will soon be pulling from its heavy branches inspires me. The tree is
ready, waiting patiently to be freed of its burden with its branches cascading down, laden with
olives. That is why I’m here.
With caution, I walk around the perimeter of the tree checking the netting that has been placed
below it to be sure no open spots will let the olives reach the soil. I pick my spot of entry, and
stand to face the tree like Don Quixote before a windmill, ready to engage! My eyes search for
the best place to begin stripping the tree. I choose the opening that will give me the advantage
I seek. Looking to the ground, I advance one of my feet forward towards the center of the tree,
gingerly placing it without stepping on any olives and leaning inward with one arm reach for a
branch to steady myself while raising the other to the top of the branch I have chosen to begin
working.
Like so many other things in life, picking olives soon teaches us that the relaxed softer gentler
approach wins the day. Actually, picking olives may not be the best expression to describe the
activity. The process is more like coaxing milk from a cow. First the branch to be cleaned must
be exposed, separating it from others to the extent possible. Then with a semi closed hand in
the shape of a small rake, the olives are captured and released from the tree as the hand
moves down from the top to the bottom of the branch. Dozens of olives will drop like silver
dollars from the old slot machines to the net below.
After all of the olives have been culled from the outside branches, the next phase requires
reworking the same area, but deeper into the tree. Phase two requires that the clean outer
branches be lifted and held aside as the process is repeated on the inner limbs until the entire
section is clear. A careful step back to the perimeter allows for a break before stepping a few
feet to the side and repeating the series of intrusions until the tree has been circumnavigated...
All of this time being careful not to step on a single olive. No sense pressing the olives into the
ground. Better wait for the press at the fontoio which will give back the liquid green gold we all
so love.
Basta,
Hope you enjoy your day.
Ciao,
Martino
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
 |
| |
 |
Dear All... Letters from Calabria