Olives with the Mollica Family

We shuffled lazily down the gravel road back to the old stone (but recently renovated) house. The sun was setting quietly over the mountains, and the town of Calatafimi paled in the distance, nestled between the hills. The day's harvest was through, and we had spent the last hour of sunlight relaxing by the infinity pool. Within the next couple of hours, we'd be sipping wine with our host and awaiting the arrival of the newest WWOOFer from Norway, Amund (like "almond" without the "l"). Then we would be heading up to "the compound" for a big, fun, and noisy Mollica family dinner.

Yes, folks, this is real life for me and Michelle. Perfect weather. Breathtaking landscape. Lovely people--they really do have the sun in their hearts! Today we went to Mass and the beach, and our hosts allowed us to borrow their car. Life is good.

The olive harvest, in my humble opinion, is more fun than the grape harvest. Perhaps that's because it's less sticky. Perhaps that's because there are no yellow jackets flying around the olives. It could be that this harvest is for the families' personal use, so it's not as if they are relying on the production for their livelihood. It's much less stressful. There are more people to help, and there is less work to be done this year. The people we've been working with are genuinely warm and friendly and Sicilian. Whatever the reason, the olive harvest is the harvest for me.


Before now, I never knew that I had been missing out on one of the simple joys of life: climbing an olive tree to pick olives. There's nothing like using multiple muscle groups, balance, strategy, etc. to perform a task that directly translates into your community's food consumption. It's a group effort, too. Two or more people can be in the tree bending down branches for the larger group combing them off the tree. Or the group on the ground can pick the outer olives while the group in the tree picks the olives in the middle branches. Spreading and then folding up the nets are other aspects of harvesting that require a bit of logical reasoning, which I like.

Each moment of the harvest is a little different, depending on the goals of the farmer for the day. Sometimes, it's just like this:




Other times, it's a little less romantic:

Oh, you probably don't know what I mean when I say "the compound," so let me explain. Caterina's father was apparently a well-known judge in Calatafimi back in the day. Most of the children had moved out of town, but when the earthquake of 1968 came about and the family was later given money to rebuild, Caterina, Paolo, and Francesco all built homes right beside that of their mother and father. Each Mollica child also seems to have some type of guest home as well, and we stay in Caterina and Angus's guest house. Whenever we have family dinners, we have them "upstairs," that is to say up the hill from the guest house in the group of family houses. I believe Angus affectionately dubbed that area "the compound."

Here are some photos of the fun family atmosphere we are blessed to enjoy in Calatafimi:

Paolo--our chef and head farmer
for the day--grilling while chatting
with Bruno--Antonello's nephew.

Antonello--childhood friend of Paolo--
holding up "first oil," which is the green
virgin olive oil that comes straight from the press.

This is a Sicilian favorite: first oil
with fresh ricotta or bread. I had both.

These are the young and lovely Sicilians we know (minus Antonello)
with Michelle. From left: Giorgio--Antonello's son, Paola--Paolo's daughter,
Laura--daughter of another family friend, Bruno--Giorgio's cousin. 

View of Calatafimi from the Castle Eufemio