I Think That I Shall Never See...

I think that I shall never see,

A poem lovely as a tree.

          Robert Frost

I had the opportunity to walk through an olive grove yesterday. 

 The tree -  olivo

The fruit - oliva

The trunks amazed me.  No two resembled each other in any way.  I have no idea what shapes, twists, gnarls them.  

Each one teaches a lesson about life.  

Two of us go through the same experience and come out so differently.

The same sun radiates upon each of us, the same clouds dim the sun, the same teacher teaches twenty students in one classroom, the same parents provide nurturing and guidance in the same household.

The same boiling water hardens the egg

and softens the potato.

I marvel as I ponder over these old guards that have provided oil and fruit to generations.  These trees are the heart of all things Italian.

I'm not the only one fascinated with the gnarly beauty of the olivo.  This one stands beside a doorway in Ostuni.

The oliva are always brought to the table as soon as you are seated.  Mozzarella cheese, made with buffalo milk, is often tied in knots as you see here, and always served as a fresh cheese.

Rugged strength and fortitude are other characteristics that I appreciate about trees.  We've all seen pines growing through rock in our Rocky mountains.  Perseverance knows no national boundaries.





I noticed this interesting specimen in a piazza in Ostuni.

Of course one should never miss a sunset!
Especially on the Adriatica.