Gnarled beauty

I promised a blog on them and apologies for being late with it but a fabulous wedding intervened of our eldest George to the lovely Melissa in Masseria Borgo Mortella in Puglia. If there is one overwhelming emotion that pervaded the three days of celebrations it was joy and lots of love from friends and family who came to share the moments with us. We were surrounded by the most beautiful olive groves and it is about these ancient trees that I come to speak about today which will endure long after we are gone. 

The fields we walked in, the roadsides, and as far as the eye could see, were planted with them. By the looks of some of them, I suspect they are hundreds of years old. We know the oldest is approximately 2000- 3000 years old which makes us seem like saplings without too much of a future in front of us, by comparison. So I walked in amongst them and took shots of some. Each one different and more exceptional then the one next to it. The more gnarled, the older, the more beautiful, an interesting analogy for us humans, which I think we could apply wholeheartedly to our own perception of beauty.  

Olives take some years to bear fruit, and how welcome and wholesome that is for all of us in every form we come across it. The oldest reported one is nearly 3000 years old near Chania, in Crete where I celebrated a mere 60 years on this earth. Way to go.