I cupped my fingers loosely around my tea mug, tapping the tips. Today was the first morning where I needed the cardigan, felt comfortable in the weight of jeans. I looked up at the olive branches poking the bright sky of morning and thought, “Here I am sitting in our courtyard, in Provence and it is a beautiful day.” Those words came out of my mind in bold print and I seemed to pull a part from myself for a few seconds as if to check, yes, I am really here and yes, it is beautiful. Just the tiniest of pauses on the stop-watch before life kept rolling on.
My Mom, Linda, was here visiting with her Husband last week. It was Leonard’s first trip overseas and I witnessed quite a few of those moments of discovery, some of which were punctuated outright with thought in a bubble statements of delight.
When they left last Friday morning, I admit that I cried, 46 years old and all. But I love them so much that it is the impossible pull of the heart that an expat knows which works its way on me. Remi is used to this reaction and was exceedingly kind. He thought it best to keep me busy, to have a project to do.
And so we decided to harvest our olive tree.
The grape harvest had been a resounding success and everyone has raved about Remi’s jam and jelly. Emboldened, he has decided that we will try to brine our own olives, to make the olives cassées that are such a symbol of la vie Provençale.
Last year, the olives had been victim to the same flies and disease that decimated the crops across Italy, France and Spain. We simply swept them up as they fell, soft and rotten, in hopes of arriving before the dogs did. So Remi had research to do in regard to the hows but started by simply pulling the car over in the Alpilles one day and asking an oléiculteur directly.
As we do not wish to turn our olives into oil, the moment is now for the picking. And that is what we did that afternoon with my rhythmically plucking at the lower branches while leaving Remi to perch on progressively taller ladders to try – and fail – to reach the top of our unusually tall tree. We wanted the fruit unbruised, so “combing” the branches was not an option. It was a slow process but as Remi had imagined, it was just what the doctor ordered.
The dogs watched on with growing impatience as our work continued on past their normal dinner time. The light danced through the branches until it warmed into that golden glow that exemplifies this time of year. I dotted around, snapping away with my camera to document yet another “first” of living in this wonderful home. Remi made a joking remark about how normally, as the professional photographer in the family, he should be the one behind the lens!
The beauty of the sun was rankling him and it warmed me to melt any lingering tristesse.
Now, we have our first little harvest. I say petite for half had to be thrown out immediately – according to the olive farmer, the ones that float when rinsed are kaput. The remaining firm green globes have been nicked cross-wise and will soak for the next ten days or so. As Remi is away for work, it is my task to change the water twice a day. Then he will work his magic – he already has very specific ideas for the “sauce” – and we will put up our olives for the winter months ahead.
I might even need to send a jar back to the States as a reminder to my family that they might again be far away but are always right here in Provence with me, right within my heart.
Wow – that does look like a painstaking process! I can see by the light in the photos that you worked for a long time – love the angles and the patient doggy! You don't have to send any here to us – hard to send, methinks – just tell us all how they turn out!
How exciting, I can remember the first time we ever picked and harvested our own olives, in New Zealand, it was so exciting, there is nothing quite like it, there is something so extremely precious about olives.
When they're ready for the eating, they'll be the best you've ever tasted.
What a satisfying feeling Heather.
Cheers
Neat xx
HE looks SO different in EVERY PHOTO I have EVER seen of HIM!Of course, you have never given us a FULL VIEW which would help BUT This is NOT the GUY I Have had pictured living with YOU all these years!!!!HOW FUNNY IS THAT!I missed my slot today………….tomorrow at the shop…….can we try for WEDNESDAY?XOXO
BEAUTIFUL OLIVE TREE………………BEAUTIFUL MAN in OLIVE TREE.
Lovely post, thanks. To quote you: "Just the tiniest of pauses on the stop-watch before life kept rolling on."
Very nicely put! I try so to scatter those little pauses throughout my days. They work magic in keeping me aware, engaged and I suppose present.
Oh my, how fabulous! Can they be eaten as is? Pardon my ignorance, but I always have a hard time harvesting that which can be eaten straight off the tree or vine.
Oh, how gorgeous is that light? I can understand your sadness but it seems like you found the perfect job to help you forget just a little bit. Saturday was atrociously hot here but the NW wind has brought cool breezes and I can breathe again.
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Heather how wonderful to be able to harvest these olives from such special trees in your region!
I look forward to seeing how Remi preserves them after your thoughtful process!!
Have a great week and I am so happy your Mother was able to visit!
xoxo
Karena
The Arts by Karena
Painting Central Park
What a wonderful way of keeping busy and getting over good-byes. Best wishes from Germany!