Split and scarred by winter cold, dried and hollowed out by the sun, and twisted by the wind, the trunks of our olive trees reveal their histories. While olive saplings grow straight and true, the gnarled and knotted trunks of older trees contort themselves into strange shapes, seemingly growing in every direction but straight upwards. As they age, their once silvery-smooth bark crinkles and cracks.
Every olive tree is unique – to me each has its own personality. Above all, I love they way they resist the imposed formality of the olive grove with its terracing and neat spacing, giving the grove a pleasingly disorderly appearence.