The last orange groves on the coast

Orange gardens grown in the open field since the 15th century, survivors of a little ice age and of Sicilian competition.

The story

Orange growing in Abruzzo can be dated to the 13th and 14th centuries. Among the earliest known documents attesting specialised citrus orchards in the region — orange gardens, that is — is a notarial deed of 1442 from the Vasto area. It was in the Renaissance that this kind of cultivation began to spread here too, thanks to the interest of a few feudal houses — above all the Acquaviva and the D'Avalos — of aristocratic and middle-class families and of church institutions.

The little ice age

Citrus growing along the Adriatic coast suffered a heavy blow with the climate crisis of the 17th century, known as the “little ice age”. The low winter temperatures destroyed every orange grove on the shore and wiped out the citron along the Vasto coast, at Vignola: the citron, like the lemon, is among the citrus fruits most sensitive to frost.

During the 18th century, as the climate generally improved, the orange spread again, although it suffered in the bitter winters of 1929 and 1956. This time, though, what damaged the crop most was the building of the railway network, which opened the way to Sicilian oranges, then expanding fast.

Where they are today

In Abruzzo citrus fruit was, and still is, grown in the open field, without the help of walls. The last surviving groves are on the coast at Vasto and on the strip between Rocca San Giovanni and San Vito Chietino, reaching north as far as Ortona. At Vasto the orange gardens survive in the small valleys that open towards the sea; in the Rocca San Giovanni area what is left is concentrated in the Vallevò district, sheltered by tall bay hedges and by canes.

Water from the many springs is channelled and gathered in tanks: around each tree a small circular hollow is dug, called a “bacile”, to hold the water needed in summer. To walk through these gardens is to be caught by the scents and cheered by the contrast between the dark green and the orange of the fruit, between the light green of the salad crops and the red of the tomatoes. It feels like being suspended between the green of the land and the blue of the sea.