The Olive Trees that made my Easter Spring-like

This is my belated submission to the challenge (by Ingrid at Experiments in Fiction) to write a spring sonnet. I must admit, I tried initially to write about my beef that it’s autumn where I live and yet we still partake of symbols of fertility like easter eggs and we decorate our supermarkets with bunny footprints, etc. Anyway I wrote a sonnet but decided it was boring and whingey. So here’s my second attempt. I didn’t really attempt iambic pentameter (which I found funny when I googled it as it said it was five metric feet. Sounds imperially metric to me.) But feel free to see if you can find any accidental da DUMs.

It is Easter in Australia, - that’s autumn, not spring
but in the olive grove, the trees march in quiet rows
of spinning light and shade, and exuberant fruiting -
Koroneikis, Missions, Corregiolas, and Frantoios

bowed under sprays of self-shadowing green nuts.
Come May and we’ll meet, wielding orange plastic rakes
with a catching trampoline bed that opens and shuts
around the trunk of each tree, funnelling our takes

into buckets.  For oil, the rakes make for quicker picks
but if you want to pickle table olives, it’s one by one.
Pendulino,  Manzanillo, Kalamata, UC13A6
Place them gently into padded bags, strapped to your front.

The dogs will frolick over grass swathes – a canine ideal -
while willy wagtails chatter and overhead the wedgies wheel

11 thoughts on “The Olive Trees that made my Easter Spring-like

  1. Lovely images of olives both in Autumn and spring. And I like that you broke free from the constraints of the imperial metre! We got roped into some olive pruning yesterday, but I wasn’t much help as I’d already climbed a mountain!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Excellent! And I never realised table olives were all hand picked.
    When I was a kid even picking was above my paygrade at my grandparents citrus orchard. I used to get stuck in the big shed doing the washing and waxing.

    Liked by 1 person

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