Mario Donnabella was born here Right in
this land called Cilento, in the municipality of Torre Orsaia
at a hamlet named Borgo Cerreto situated about 300 yards above the Gulf of Policastro.
Mount Centaurino, which dominates the surrounding territory, is part of the history of this place and has always been. Just like the Bussento and Mingardo, rivers, which surround his property. A land that rules over the water gushing out of its depths. They have always known each other, he and his land. They are bound together inseparably.  They communicate.
No day is like any other, since life flows constantly. And as he grows old, his land follows him along this path, made of brief moments and long seasons coming one after the other. Every day he does his best to take care and honour it, to discover its irruptions, wonders, moments of silence, sometimes even its tensions and contradictions. He is an eco-sustainable, organic and biodynamic farmer, or rather he wants to preserve the environment and protect the future of his children and grandchildren, without causing too much disturbance. He lets Nature follow its course, in accordance with its own pace and methods, and in the meantime he listens and learns. His father used to do the same. It has always been so.
His teachers are Rudolf Steiner, Masanobu Fukuoka, Alex Podolinsky, Alex Shigo, Klaus Mattheck and Teruo Higa.
His brothers emigrated to the other side of the world, like many others who, one by one, left this place to seek their fortune in far-flung countries, leaving behind empty spaces which are still stuck in the past, and now are being inhabited again by new generations and filled with new hopes.
The land he inherited from his father comprises pasture meadows, woods, olive groves and vineyards. He christened it Silva Plantarium, i.e. a forest tree nursery, as he wanted to give back to it what is being taken away from it: he grows native plants typical of Cilento and Mediterranean scrub for forest development, such as Turkey oaks, holm-oaks, downy oaks, flowering ashes and elms. And then shrubs, such as strawberry trees, myrtles, brooms, mastic trees and many others, which are the natural and spontaneous species that populate this pristine land. They call it biodiversity. He insists on calling it Nature. It expresses itself in all seasons, showing all its vitality. Both during cold and bare winters and under the scorching summer sun.
He owns 6 hectares of olive groves, comprising the centuries-old Pisciottana cultivar and the newly planted groves of Provenzana olive trees.
He often puts his open hand on his centuries-old olive trees, from which he currently produces oil only for his family. He needs to feel their energy. The wind, gentle or stormy, sometimes seeps through their leaves: seated at their feet, seeking shade on sultry summer days, eating bread, walnuts and figs, he loses his train of thoughts in the noisy silence of his land, in the whirlwind of life’s sounds: deafening crickets, flowers, opening buds, dancing insects, and the aroma of salt in the air.
He grows around 4 hectares of vineyards of old cultivars traditionally from Cilento, which have nearly disappeared: Aglianicone, Santa Sofia and Mangiaguerra. But also Aglianico and Fiano. No pesticides, herbicides or chemical nutrients that could harm them are used.
When he wakes up in the morning he looks out of the window and observes his land, grasping the signs that it has sown for him, he thinks. Then he looks up and sees the profile of the mountains forming an imposing backdrop. His gaze runs along their sinuous lines. He scrutinises them, trying to find any tiny differences with respect to the day before: they are true statues, full of life. With their green mantle, they purify his gaze and mind. Then he goes out and meets his land. He walks across it, one step after the other, without ever getting tired of it. He checks the biological quality level of the soil in the olive grove and vineyard with great concern. He is reassured by the presence of stretches of wild oat, rye-grass, wild mustard, dandelion, chicory, white clover, thistle, vetch, heather, rock rose, inula, French honeysuckle, wild rose, bramble, wild asparagus and borage.
In the evening, when he goes home, he feels reassured. At night, a blanket of silence and darkness descends upon his house: the lights of the hamlet are only distant and dim lanterns in the night. He often goes out, onto the porch, with the excuse that he has to finish an urgent job, only to stare at the stars. On fine nights, the sky is brimming with stars.
His children walk by his side along this path.

Silva Plantarium is a member of ATA