The grove
A walk between the trees.
Scroll, and the dirt road leads you through the grove to the ancient tree.
Row by row
Every tree carries its own story.
Trunks twisted by the years, branches full of silver leaves. Olive trees are never in a hurry, and neither are we.
Harvest
By hand, at first colour.
Nets are spread beneath the trees, and the olives are picked in the cool of the morning as they turn from green to violet.
Soil and sun
Light, soil and patience.
Soil, sun and wind decide the character of the oil; our part is to reach it at exactly the right moment.
The end of the road
The ancient tree.
Where it all begins. The rest of the story continues from here.