Olive groves

A friend wrote, just before we left for Croatia, “please greet the olive groves for me. I dream about them”. We do too. And on this warm first evening’s return the Adriatic is royal blue and turquoise, just feet away from the deep orange-red soil and the loud chorus of cicadas in the olive trees. Just a couple of hours in we’ve already enjoyed wonderful bread and olive oil, and the cherry strudel that is just one amongst so many good reasons for coming back here. The bells of the sixth century basilica are sounding just outside our window and many dozens of swallows are circling the spire. The Poreč Festival of Life is in full swing. There’s music in the ancient streets and peaceful strollers of all ages and many nationalities are delighted by Paddington Bear’s antics at a perfectly fabulous outdoor cinema. This is a vision of something good and right and wholesome. I’m immeasurably thankful for it.

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