skatea

We arrived at the frantoia at dusk. It had been a long day for the frantoia employees but there was no rest for the weary during this week, the height of the olive harvest. Through the bright lights of the mill we could see the smoky haze from the olive vapor. The air was filled with the strong peppery olive aroma. Local olive farmers came and went, first with crates and then with vats of oil. As they left, their eyes were lit with the excitement. They had witnessed olives they had just picked enter the presses and emerge as pulp and oil, thick and fragrant in the loveliest hue of golden green one could ever see.