Apricot Kisses
“The sun hangs there for minutes on end, as if contemplating whether or not to actually rise that day. This daily spectacle would blow away nature lovers, but I ignore it out of habit. Instead, I survey the young trees, which, after their May bloom, are carrying their first fruits: reddish-yellow apricots, deliciously sweet smelling, that give when you lightly press them with your thumb. They’re ready for harvest.
Straightening, I squint. Paolo is already out here with the tractor. If I had ...to describe our foreman in one sentence, I would say he lives to take care of the fields. He’s not interested in what income they generate. It’s the view of arrow-straight rows of trees and furrows that makes him happy.
In the outer orchard, I see men carrying huge baskets on their backs. They are Polish fruit pickers, super punctual and as sturdy as our mules. There’s no better harvest help available in all of Italy, and for sure not in Montesimo.MoreLess
Straightening, I squint. Paolo is already out here with the tractor. If I had ...to describe our foreman in one sentence, I would say he lives to take care of the fields. He’s not interested in what income they generate. It’s the view of arrow-straight rows of trees and furrows that makes him happy.
In the outer orchard, I see men carrying huge baskets on their backs. They are Polish fruit pickers, super punctual and as sturdy as our mules. There’s no better harvest help available in all of Italy, and for sure not in Montesimo.MoreLess
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