Federico, one of our band of brothers in the olive harvest went out to the patch and rescued the survivors. “I will make a nice tomato sauce for lunch,” he declared. And so it was, the life of the tomatoes in that scrawny little patch would not be for naught.
After a short coffee we got ourselves back to the business of the day, olives. We had a weekend and sunny weather to gather all we could from the 20 or so trees on the property. There was an appointment at the olive mill on Monday. Tuesday we were heading back home. No time to waste.
Alan Lomax and Diego Carpitella gathered and recorded. For some reason I wanted to sing one of them. Here I was in the hills surrounded by sheep and Sardinians, and my old genetic roots were leaching out. I was content to sing inside, little quiet folk songs. Better that way for my co-workers.
written and photographed by Alfonso Cevola limited rights reserved On the Wine Trail in Italy
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