Tangerine Rain

I’m writing to you between the nexus of 50 loaves of just baked bread, an espresso in a tea cup, a rain cloud’s steady drizzle, and tangerine peels on the table, the couch, and the kitchen counter. It’s a wonderful place to be. The fanaticism for minneola tangerines is currently at it’s peak in our household. My youngest lamenting that he can’t consume every single one in existence on earth, but he seems to be trying his best. I find the peels everywhere. The aroma of citrus and rain together are probably one of my favorites. When we go for a drizzly trail walk, a tangerine, into the front seat of the car there is that peeling and burst of fragrance, while reading a book nestled in the couch, yes also there. 30 seconds before dinner is about to be served? 30 seconds after a shower in pajamas …for dessert? Perhaps any grayish day is really only a series of moments in which we could be consuming the ephemeral brightness of a mandarin, a satsuma, a kumquat or a clementine. Giving your juicy nectar of sunshine to our hearts and tongues, we are grateful for you tangerines, and all the hands that care for your trees, pick you, carry you to market, and let us take you home for far too little money for how luxurious and truly magical you are. Lucky us.