My friend, Carlo--who was the foreign exchange student senior year, in my high school--has a large farm with vineyards, olive trees, pigs, and many other commestibles. It is called Le Ripe, which he named after the sandstone formations that are typical of the area. (picture 1) I think I have never really eaten at all until the dinner prepared with his own--augmented with other--local produce. The olive oil is so grassy and fresh, you could drink it straight from the bottle. We visited his farm in the afternoon, after lunching on the patio of his architect friend Jean-Fanco's straw-bale renovation, which is very close to completion.
I have a "commission"--to do a portrait of Denissa, the farm manager's little girl--and so I took photos of her and got a few good shots I think, in spite of her shyness (pic 2). Perhaps I will start that tomorrow, since it's supposed to rain. (Hm. This will seem disjointed, as I don't have online access, currently, and so am unable to post; all I can do is write. And ponder my days.)
A few impressions from my time spent at the farm: birds twerping, breeze in leaves, ancient mower moving between rows of olive trees, bees, smells of grass and hay, donkey braying, sun through dancing leaves, fly buzzing by, vehicle (tractor?) on road, cicadas (?) chirping, spots of sun moving across eyelids, shuddering hoot of a turtle dove, olive leaf shadows on my page.
Date: 5/10/14
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