An irregular, irreverent, post-modern account of the surreal, the ordinary, and the bizarre happenings on and around the Felia lavender farm in Crete

Sunday, December 11, 2005

and Bluto too ...

The rain fell thru the night and had ceased by morn. Olive picking continued - a little delayed, but by 9 all was under way again. We finished up at about 4 again - in time for Pantelis to get back to his sheep. At that point there was more than a metric tonne of olives bagged and ready for the presses scattered around the fields. The trees have nearly all been pruned and the views have all opened out again as the tops of overgrown olives have disappeared. Prunings lay all about. There is a pile of logs newly ready for the stove. This evening at 6 two men from Fones in a grey and scabby pickup came to collect the olives and take them off for pressing. The driver had his arm in plaster and a sling. His helper was 67 year olds with heavy recent scarring to his forehead. I helped him lift the massive sacks onto his broad back and tip them into the back of the pickup. I saw them off and closed the drive gate on another olive harvest.

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