21 October 2005

The Olive Tree Posted by Picasa

The Olive Tree

The olive tree has is a symbol of freedom and peace. Its roots go deep into the ground and its branches reach up towards the sky. You have to prune the tree every year for it to produce its fruit. You can take a branch, and grow a new tree and plant a mountain of olive trees.
The tree is life giving.
It produces oil for cooking, your skin, for fire, and for food.
The olive tree dates back to the Egyptian time period, they used it for everything.
People have been killed over olives.
Families have broken up over olives.
When the killing stops
and the families come back together
then the olive tree will represent the peace that is so desires.

Book link:  The Olive Tree of Civilization, by John Train:
The ancients knew these virtues and olive oil became a key to their religious and political ceremonies, from the temples of Ra in Egypt where lamps burned olive oil, to the temple of Soloman, where kings were anointed with oil based ointments. Christ was offered a sip of oil on the cross; Hanukah is, at its origin...

20 October 2005

The Search for an Identity

In the search for an identity my cousin sent me this:

If suddenly and without warning you had nothing to worry about, do you know what the world would began to look like?

Exactly the same as it does now.

If suddenly you had absolutely nothing to be afraid of do you know what you’d begin to look like right now?

Yeah, “hot” as ever.

If suddenly, you had absolutely no expectations you had to live up to and absolutely no one to disappoint, do you know how free you would suddenly become?

The only thing that would really change are your thoughts-
And you don’t need circumstances and other people to help you with that do you?

fall leaves Posted by Picasa

19 October 2005

tuscan cross Posted by Picasa

17 October 2005

Olive Oil

Olive Oil Posted by Picasa

Pozzolatico winery Posted by Picasa

selling oil

The Salesman Posted by Picasa

The Prince and the Castle

There are a few things that the Italians cannot live without in their homes and one of those things is olive oil and wine. The Pozzolatico Castle store, that is owned by the renowned Count (I call him a Prince), is open on Wednesday afternoons and Saturday mornings. Rumor says that the prince owns all the land in Pozzolatico and more! He has his own carpenter, farmers, olive trees, grape vines and store. He produces his own wine and olive oil.

Today, I went to the Castle to buy some of the famed olive oil and red wine. I walked from my humble abode up the road to the castle. The tall tale sign that visitors are welcome to the castle is when the large Iron Gate is open. As I walked through the gate on the road lined with rosemary, olive trees, random flowers and nicely pruned bushes, I felt like the lost girl searching for her prince. I asked myself, “Where is my prince? Could he be here?” What a dream it is for an older single, divorced woman to meet her true prince, who lives truly in a castle surrounded with tall stoned walls and surrounded by miles and miles of land.

As I enter into the garden and down the nicely landscaped road, I see a few cars parked near a large antique wooden garage door. “This must be where the famed wine and olive oil is!” Grungy looking aged men are hanging around the parking lot smoking cigarettes and holding large various designed glass jars to hold the precious wine or olive oil.

Once inside there are a variety of garden fresh vegetables to choose from and a desk with a calculator and papers rummaged on top. There is another red antique wooden door that is the entry way to the winery. The smell inside is that of the night after a drinking binge in a sorority house.

I asked to taste the olive oil, because I heard that many times they will try to sell you “last years supply” before giving you the new. I tasted the old and I thought, “Ummm good!” and then tasted the new, and thought, “It was picked too early and the taste is somewhat bitter.” I’ll take the old, please!

The wine was not a problem, I had already brought with me a few empty bottles and wholah I have now the red wine and olive oil. The salesman was not the prince. I thought to myself, dang. I wanted to see the famed prince! He was a grungy old man, missing two front teeth trying to keep all the customers happy. The prince was no where to be found. “Oh well, maybe next time…??”