At almost 80, Irini Diakogeorgiou, the village priest’s wife, has known no other life than Olympos. She grew up in the hard years, during World War II and observed her parents and relatives toiling in their plots from sunup to sundown. Sometimes, they would be gone from home for a week, sleeping near the fields to dig and plant and thresh the crops. Today, standing in her ancestral olive grove and wearing a smock over her black folk attire, she and her husband, Father Yiannis, lay out the special cloth used for gathering olives. As they work, Father Yiannis sings. He believes the trees listen to him and thrive on his song. His wife says he treats his trees with the same tenderness as he does his family. The possession of olive trees is extremely important to families on Olympos, even today. “When a home has bread and olive oil, they can survive even if they have nothing else,” says Irini, as she shakes the fruit free from their trees.