Harvest on the hills

A violent rustle in the trees below reminds me of Jurassic Park. Not that I believe there are velociraptors in present day Spain as much as I believe there are bulls on the main road where signs are placed to warn us of them. Still, you should not take life for granted. 

The rustle starts again. This time accompanied by a rhythmical "thwack, thwack, thwack" before that sound is drowned out by a whirr of a motor, shouting and movement.

It is harvest time and the sounds, rustles and noises all relate to the hundreds of olive trees that are being shed of their shiny black and muted green fruits before being pruned. 

Backbreaking work, strong shoulders and a stronger constitution is needed to get the olives from the trees to the press. 

The process goes roughly in this order: the ground below each tree is raked in circles clearing the area of stones and anything that hinders the picking or should not be taken in with the fruits. The farmer then places nets under the trees, often lifted up at the corners on sticks so the little fruits don't run off down the hillside (one neighbour, a septuagenarian, didn't have nets so did it all by hand. And I dare to feel sore after a five kilometre walk). Finally, the farmer uses a hook atop a long pole with a motor at its base that violently shakes the larger branches whilst another person, usually family, hits the smaller branches with a stick. The olives fall into the nets which are pulled together. The olives are put into containers or bags ready to take to the olive press cooperative. 

When all is done, the lost branches and leaves are burned in the fields, creating a layer of smoke in the valleys that look like low clouds on damp mornings and offer a sweet smoky aroma.  

The process takes a few days of agonising hard graft to reap several kilos of olives and several litres of oil once pressed. If you imagine it, one litre of oil per person per month is about the average consumption. That is a lot of trees. 

Thankfully, the trees in the garden are being picked by someone else. My only effort this harvest will be reaching to get an olive for a martini.