Last fall, the nets were spread to catch the fruit and we gathered them up and shook them off and into sacks. Then down the hill to the press we went. There we bottled up several casks of oil that tasted of steep hills and generous light and Mediterranean breezes–remember? That oil lasted through to Easter. Now it’s gone, but fall’s approaching. The hot and humid days are shortening, the small buds under the silvery green leaves have prospered. In a short while we’ll unfurl the nets, catch fat black fruit and press it into golden oil again.