A Weekend Ritual
🎧 Listen to this story:
Where It All Began:
“The Weekends That Raised Me”
“Figs, Firelight, and Family Roots”
A Weekend Ritual
Every Friday at 3:30 p.m., my childhood would shift gears. My father would pick us up, and together we’d drive to the olive farm—me and my grandfather, heading into what felt like another world. We’d spend every weekend there, from Friday afternoon until Sunday night at 9:00 p.m., in a small house that still stands today.
It wasn’t made of stone or anything fancy—it was simple, built by my grandfather and his friend back when I was just a baby. I grew up hearing stories about how they built it with their own hands.
At the farm, there was no electricity, and of course, no cellphones. Just the land, the trees, and the rhythm of the sun to guide our days.
The day ended when the sun went down and began again when the sun came up. In winter, I remember falling asleep next to the wood stove, wrapped in warmth, and waking up to the smell of sweet, warm milk for breakfast.
Summers had their own kind of magic. I developed a love for figs—something that has stayed with me ever since. I’d wake up just before dawn and climb to the top of the hill with my grandfather, to his favorite fig tree. That’s when figs are at their best—ripened overnight and ready to eat before the birds come. I would eat mine right there under the tree, while the fruit still held the perfect coolness of the night and the first light of morning touched the horizon. The taste, the smell, the feeling—it’s unforgettable.
At the time, I thought everyone had these experiences. I thought everyone knew how to pick figs, how to walk among olive trees, how to fall asleep to the sounds of the earth. Only later did I realize how rare and sacred those moments truly were. I was learning without knowing it—about nature, patience, and deep respect for the land.
As I write this now, I ask myself: why did I choose to share this story?
Maybe it’s because this is where the Yiotis Olive Farm experience truly begins. It begins not with a product, but with a memory. With family. With stillness. With the scent of woodsmoke, the taste of warm figs, and the early morning sun on a hill in Laconia.
If you’re reading this now, I invite you to read it not just with your eyes, but with your heart. Because that’s how our story was lived—and that’s how Yiotis Olive Farm continues to grow. And now, I’m working on ways for you to experience it for yourself—firsthand. To walk the same olive paths, to taste the figs under the morning sun, to gather around the fire, and feel the stillness that shaped me. This isn’t just a story from my past—it’s an experience I hope to share with you soon.
— Panagiotis Katsafouros