Olive Tree Pruning

I had wanted to write about my experience pruning olive trees with Francine, and have since discovered this will probably be a usual occurrence, as I have already done it 3 separate days. Every time Lyne, who is also an English teacher 3 days a week, has a full schedule teaching, I told her it would be fine to help Francine, unless there is a lot of work to do at Lyne´s place. Thus far, we always leave a little after 9, drive down into the heart of the town, pick up an elderly woman Teresa (talked about previously, I believe), and cross the Ebro River into the countryside, where we usually only see a couple passersby the whole day. Sometimes Francine has a few extra helpers stop by. Her area is quiet and surrounded by vast mountains which made Tortosa, in the past, famous for its granite mines.

To prune an olive tree, I quickly learned, you must stand back and observe the equilibrium of the tree, noting that the only reason you prune an olive tree is to make it easier to gather the product in the future, so it must be done correctly. Therefore, you don´t want to have tall branches. Basically, the water the tree gets goes to those branches, branches that are too difficult to harvest from the ground. They hog the water, and in Spanish are called chupones. Before even that is thinning or cleaning the tree of dry or dead branches, and it can get chaotic. So many twigs here and there to snip and snap, it takes quite a bit of patience.You want a nice rotund tree that grows out and full, and you must have a keen eye and be intuitive to realize which branches could grow out instead of up in the future. The women always pardon their actions when they cut the tree, and thank the tree when finished.

So that´s the gist of what we do. In the midst of everything, we burn the cut branches, and save the large pieces for her to sell at some point for firewood. A couple hours of this, then we take a lunch break. Francine is a great cook and usually has a pot of something like lentils with fresh veggies, fresh baked bread, her previously harvested olives, and hot tea, and oranges for after. The second time she made black beans with vegetables from her garden. So good, I think I had 4 bowls of it. Today she made a tortilla (in Spain, tortillas are made of eggs and usually potatoes, more like a quiche; hers was egg, onion, tuna, and some other veggies), the usual bread, tea, and small, sweet oranges. I had 4 of them. Okay, I´m lying. I actually had 5. But they´re so small they don´t really count. After lunch, we were for a few more hours and pack things up.

Funny thing. Nois, her dog, ran off the second day we pruned and came back later covered in cow poop. Out of the 5 of us, I was the only one who wouldn´t pet her. That´s a part of me that won´t change. Am I uncultured?

Here is a set of pictures of the artichokes we roasted this past Sunday after tai chi at the beach. So juicy and tender, if I can get my hands on some small ´chokes like these in the States, I am doing it there.

Stem cut, top smacked on table to open, a
bit of salt and oil poured in, and done

Ready for the coals

Once finished, peel off the charred outer
layers and go to town