In every bush and every tree the landscape is telling the story of seasons past and seasons yet to come.
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Ten long dry winters and as many scorching summers have placed great demands on this ecology.
The crisp brown leaves in the crowns of the trees tell their own sorry tale. Everywhere there is a die back and a withdrawal to the core. The trees and bushes shed excess leaves and branches, they can afford no more water loss.
The roots and the main stems, however, require the focus of the life force of these plants. They know that at all costs they must be kept alive as they await the onset of the rains.
This is the same ineffable intelligence that produced a great floral display back in May.
It knew then, that perhaps one more dry winter would be too much to bear and from each of those sweet blooms fruits have appeared, smaller and drier than usual, but each filled with the promise of new life.
Now in Autumn the branches hang low, weighed down with this bounty. The whole landscape it would seem is reproducing itself as protection from the harsh dessication as it prepares to send the seed deep into the soil.
In this fecund way the ancient ancestral lines of the olives and other trees will continue to grace this place for centuries to come.
We would also do well to read this wild sylvan tale, it has messages for us too.

