No fetish for punctuality

In the north, it always was difficult to work the land.

You needed to think in December what you were going to organize in January for the preparation of the land in February to sow in April to harvest in August to dry in September to grind in October in time for the markets of November.

And in Andalusia the fruits more or less dropped from the sky.
Every month another one, without much care apart from the rain.

You do tend to get more relaxed in such a wonderful climate. So what if the harvest of January fails? Mañana there will be another one.

With as added blessing that fruits do not get it in their minds to all drop at once. Now this type of oranges, then that type. Now these avocados and then those ones. Grapes, olives, almonds, figs, nisperos, kiwis – there’s a season for everything. And lemons sprinkled all over the year.

Nothing much in the heat of summer, so then we can afford to lay back, have siestas and fiestas to celebrate the community or thank life.

You do tend to become a philosopher as Marcus Aurelius, with his Go with the flow.
Or to just have trust in life.

More than the fruits themselves, I think it’s this trust in life that is the true gold of rural Andalusia. It’s this that, in the end, made all those Phoenicians from the deserts of Syria and the Moors from Arabia, cross deserts and seas to get to this land of plenty.

Of course the Moors could dedicate their energy to founding the first universities and translate the Greek philosophers into Latin. Of course people are not as much in panic or depressed in times of economic crises.

There are still the arms of life. So much stronger than any Social Security, or the breast of Mother State.

Ben

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