The Orange Tree’s Gift

Leave it to an orange to bring me to a full stop.

Confession: My instinct is 95% bullshit.

So, I have an orange tree in my backyard. It’s been there for years and years. It is not tended properly, I think there are still oranges on it from 2 years ago. Pretty much, we let it grow for itself, trim off what sticks out as obviously unhealthy, and keep it well watered.

There are so many oranges on it now, we’re worried the branches will break from the weight.

So today, I get my first orange of the year from it. This time, I actually greet it and ask permission. Kinda. Well, I told it what I was going to do. I did “listen” for any sense of rejection though. (I am learning. Slowly.)

I sensed approval so I reached for an orange. Only to be met with sudden disapproval. “Not that one.”, the tree seemed to say.

Okay… I’ll just come over on this side and get this orange. “Nope. You don’t want that one either.”

Alright, now I’m confused. The tree is willing to part with an orange, but I have to find which one. There are too many damn oranges to choose from. “Alright, but you’ll have to show me which one.”

A light wind gusted. Most of the branches held still. I came over to those that rattled in the wind. A cluster of pleasant looking oranges were at eye-level. As I reached, I felt from the tree, “Nope. Look down.”

I left the cluster be, and looked as instructed. On the end of a thin shaft, was a solitary orange. The most orange an orange I have ever seen. “Whoa. Okay. Thank you.”

Sitting inside, I feasted on the orange. Sweet. Juicy. Tender. One damn good orange. Only when I finish do I note what is odd with this particular fruit. There are only 2 seeds.

I don’t know what variety of orange tree had been planted 2 decades ago. But from the day it started producing fruit, there have always been quite a few seeds in each fruit. Seven seeds, on average. If an orange from this tree had 4, that was considered low.

But I’m looking at 2. That’s enough to be interesting, but not enough to wake up my sleeping instinct. No, that woke up with a start when I noted of the two seeds, one is fat and plump, the other is thin, almost underdeveloped.

Okay. I’m awake. The orange tree that I grew up with, handed me a fruit, with one fat seed and one thin. Well, fuck. My instinct tells me to do what I will with the skin. I’ve already devoured the flesh. But I must keep these seeds.

And that’s all my instinct tells me. So, either I’m tilting at windmills again, or these need to be dried and tucked away for some future juju. Ideas?