Today I went out to the countryside with my father-in-law. We had a few things to fix around the land, nothing special, just the quiet rhythm of rural chores.
When we were done, he pulled a small pocket knife from his jacket and, without saying much, started gathering wild chicory into a simple bag. It grows on its own beneath the olive trees, like it’s been waiting there all along.
My mother-in-law cooks it beautifully. If you’ve never tried wild chicory, you should. The first bite can surprise you, that slightly bitter edge feels bold at first, but once it meets good olive oil, garlic, a touch of chili. it becomes something unforgettable. And if, by pure accident, a couple of sausages end up in the pan too, well, you already know.
But beyond the flavor, what truly stayed with me was the gesture. The simplicity of harvesting what the earth freely offers. That quiet, steady movement of someone who understands the land.
It inspired this song — and this moment of sharing with you.
I hope you feel it.
