Everyone is out there today picking their olives. The harvest is early this year, but they are ready. I love everything about olives; the silver green trees, the way they ripple in the wind, the purple-dark olives they bear, the oil we will make, the putting them in the sack with salt to draw the bitterness, then into the jars with garlic and herbs to serve to our friends next summer. And I am so fond of this time of year, gathering things in, a sprinkling of snow on the mountains, woolen jumpers on, air cold, yet temperature almost 20 degrees at noon. Bless the olive trees and this glorious day.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Bless these olives
Everyone is out there today picking their olives. The harvest is early this year, but they are ready. I love everything about olives; the silver green trees, the way they ripple in the wind, the purple-dark olives they bear, the oil we will make, the putting them in the sack with salt to draw the bitterness, then into the jars with garlic and herbs to serve to our friends next summer. And I am so fond of this time of year, gathering things in, a sprinkling of snow on the mountains, woolen jumpers on, air cold, yet temperature almost 20 degrees at noon. Bless the olive trees and this glorious day.
