THE OLIVE HARVEST NO. 8 -- A NATURAL HAZARD

Many, many thanks for the favourites and comments yesterday. I am amazed. I will get around to each and every one as soon as I can. Server is dicey today.

It is bucketing with rain again today. Not a soul will be picking olives plus which, it is a national holiday.

For a thousand years this tree has been producing olives such as these.Olives on a tree branch. You can see that its huge base has spread to use up all of the narrow terrace allotted to it.

You have seen the olives crated ready to go to the press and you have seen the outside of the olive press, itself.

My pics of the mill stones are blurred, but here you can see the olives being ground into a pulp. Mill stones mashing olives. The pulp is then spread on mats like these Mats for pressing olives. They go into a stainless steel cylinder and put under immense pressure so that all of the liquid is squeezed out. Well, almost all of it.

This liquid is brown and foul. Faugh! It goes into a centrifuge and is spun until the pure, extra virgin olive oil spills into a large basin.

Pictures of the squeezing and the beautiful new oil will have to wait because rain has stopped the harvest. Even if the rain stopped right now, which it won't, it would be two days before the press could operate again.

Our next appointment is on Thursday but as the rain is scheduled to continue until then, we will have to give it a miss.

The picture of the tree and the olives were taken in battering rain with wind thrown in for good measure.

Today is a national holiday in Italy -- All Saints Day. By tradition, people visit the graves of their relatives and put flowers there. Watery church bells ring out across the valley in the faint hope that the faithful will come to mass.

On a macabre note, the local cemetery is above ground. There is not enough flat land to make a proper grave yard. Bodies are placed in vaults in a marble wall. The local people call it "The Hotel". This is because remains put there can only stay for ten years, then must be checked out to make room for the next occupants. It is up to the relatives to do this. I have never had the courage to ask anyone what they do with the remains or what happens if there are no relatives to do the deed.

On another note, it is raining so hard that the noise frightens the Doberman. This means she sleeps with us on the bed. She has taken to sleeping on her back, great paws in the air. She snores. I am outnumbered, two to one, and as a result I am quite glassy-eyed for want of sleep. At least Himself does not growl when the shutters rattle.