The alarm goes at 5.45am. Jason gets wonkily out of bed, opens the shutters, wipes his eyes to check that the thick fog is attached to the world outside and not his eyeballs (it is) and dials Antonio’s number. ‘C’e la nebbia, anche piove un po…’ (there’s thick fog and it’s raining bit). No pruning today. Back to bed.
Next morning, same scenario, nothing doing.
Third morning, a glimpse of sun! An excited call! ‘Arriviamo’ says Antonio. ‘We’re coming.’
An hour later, four cars carrying an array of overalled men skid and bump their way down our terrible driveway. Ardelio arrives with his tractor. Then Enzo with the compressor and a tangle of wires attached to supersonic (well ok air-powered) seccateurs. The eleven men, whose even average age must be post-pensionable, head down into the grove with Jason, barbers on a mission to cut.
Louisa arrives a while later with half a coop’s worth of dismembered chickens. To satiate the appetites of all these workers , we have recruited her help and boy we are glad we have. Born and raised in Le Marche, she instinctively knows what and how much food will be required and she is unphased by the thought of producing it all to a strict timetable. Watching her fling pans and chicken thighs and linguini and spinach around is as thrilling as (and somewhat reminiscent of) the first time I saw the circus group Archaos juggling turned-on chainsaws.
At 12 on the dot, eleven hungry mouths, loosely attached to eleven tired bodies, appear. By 1 on the dot, they are all fed, watered, wined, varnellied, coffeed and ready for the afternoon session.
I think that a day such as this is what people dream of when they dream of life in the Italian countryside and the honest rewarding labour of tending an olive grove. And they are right to dream. It is a perfect day.
Nice to read your stories! Sitting in my grey cube in California, at the offices of a major High Tech firm, it lightens my day to dream of life in the Olive Groves.
But, please tell me what is “varnellied”
I googled this, and found only a link to your blog. LOL
Keep up the writing! Love it
TC
I have to confess ‘Varnellied’ is a neologism. Your googling is proof. There is a highly alcoholic, aniseed-y drink very popular in Le Marche called Varnelli. So Varnellied just means filled with Varnelli.
Thank you so much for your comments – delightful to know that people read with such a keen eye.
That’s a great article and nice stories overall. Thanks for sharing!