Harvesting olives to make olive oil is an ancient Italian ritual that's increasingly under threat. Now, some believe it might just be the next frontier of Italian tourism. Rubber boots squelching in the mud, I squint up at a mosaic of branches and scan the leaves. I've been at this for hours; my eyes blur. But there, at the top of the tree is one last cluster of purply-green olives.
I raise the handle of my rake – 2.5m long and unwieldy, like the neck of a giraffe. As a splinter pierces my glove, I strike; ripping through the branch with the comb's long teeth. Olives shower down in a green and purple rain. I glance triumphantly at my husband and mother-in-law. They're too busy combing their own trees to notice.
