Memories of wood and music

The love lays beneath

Growing up in a small town, my house was the last one before the alley with the olive trees.Ahhh..the garden of Eden for all of us at the age of 6,7 up to 11. Our natural playground, where olive trunks were our hidden places, olive branches our tree houses, olive twigs our swords and weapons.
I remember the day I found at the age of 6, inside the olive grove a wooden broom handle.Straight,round ,polished.. the perfect sword weapon for a mythical hero.The only problem was that this wooden broom handle became the "apple of discord" for another kid who saw me discovering and picking it up from the ground.He was couple of years older than me.And the fight followed for who will possess the great treasure, left him defeated with a big bump on his head.

My grandfather from the other side was one of the most famous carpenters of my town.His shop had a semi-basement full of old woods and tools.The sun light rays coming through the small window at the morning hours, were revealing the dance of the saw dust in the air ,as he was taming the woods.And the smell of the old woods of mahogany, rosewood, cherry, cedar, oak were making the atmosphere magical!
Some times my mother was dropping me at his shop as she was going for her daily errands.There, I had the opportunity to play around with glues and wooden sticks, carpenter's tools, sawdust and wood shavings.

As for the music, my father use to be a violin soloist at the age of 18, giving classical concerts for two (piano and violin).Unfortunately like father ,like son he never followed professionally his talent in music .He still has a beautiful violin given to him from his father a self taught amateur musician who use to play traditional folklore songs.


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