You Have Not Eaten An Orange Until It’s One That Is Fresh From A Tree

I rummaged around in my small fridge last night, trying to find something to eat.  Behind a tub of hummus and a loaf of GF bread, I find a lone orange, one of several given to me a few weeks ago by my neighbor Jessie.  She traded some beets from our Community Garden for citrus from the trees of folks who live in nearby Isleton.

I pulled the orange out, and studied it.  Three weeks?  Would it still be good?  I thought about the fruit trucked from Mexico to Missouri, which comprised the sole offerings in the store where I shopped for a couple of decades.  Surely this orange started fresher than anything I bought in Kansas City, I told myself, and started to remove the peel.

A few minutes later, I realized that you have not eaten an orange until it’s one which came fresh from a tree not ten miles from your house.  I don’t even like oranges — not really.  I once flipped over on a bike for lack of understanding how to use hand brakes.  The only thing I had consumed that day  had been a glass of orange juice.  The impact of my head on the road caused a concussion which started my stomach heaving.  I haven’t liked oranges since then.

Grapefruit, now, that’s a different story.  And tangerines; or tangelos; or those little Cuties which kids like.  Regular oranges, not so much.  Until now.  Until I eased each juicy segment from the center fibers and bit down on them, letting the sweetness fill my mouth and run a little down my chin.  Oh, what a boon you’ve given me, young Jessie!  And how lovely this fine offering, how perfect, how refreshing, at the end of a dreary, weary day.

Now I have only store-bought fruit of which to partake this evening.  Still, it’s California-grown, so one can only hope it might be somewhere near the divineness of last night’s treat.  A woman can dream.

It’s the fifth day of the sixty-second month of My Year Without Complaining.  Life continues.

Read  here about the author of this quote.

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