The Resurrection of the Fields: A Lazarus Saturday of the Past The silver-green olive groves of Davlos shivered in the early April breeze. For Andreas, the day did not begin with the tolling of the church bell, but with the scent of wild aniseed wafting from his mother’s kitchen. It was Lazarus Saturday , the day when the earth of Cyprus reaches out to touch the hem of the Divine. The Golden Harvest "Hurry, Andreas!" his cousin called from the dirt path. "The sun is already climbing over Kantara’s peaks . If we don't reach the fields now, the Lazarous will have drunk all the dew!" The boys ran toward the narrow plain near the shore, where the mountains meet the sea. What was a green carpet only weeks ago was now a riotous, shimmering sea of yellow. Thousands of wild daisies—the "Lazarous" —swayed in the wind. Andreas knelt, his fingers brushing the cool, waxy petals. "Look at the color," he whispered, holding a daisy up to the lig...