Oranges...

Sometimes the City gets to me. An off day will strike me when I don't appreciate the thousand shades of gray for being the beautiful display of monochrome gradations that they are. On those particular days, days like today when I feel a little run down and awfully tired, I pick up a bright shining orange or two (or in this case, five). Whether they're moro (blood oranges), cara cara (pink navels), or regular sweet navel oranges, there's something about them that make me smile. Could it be the sun-drenched Florida memories from my childhood? Is it that their sweet and acidic tang cut through the fog? I don't really know. I just know that they make me feel better about the world. When I had first moved to New York and was having a rough time getting on my feet, I would go grocery shopping for the most perfect orange I could find. I couldn't afford fancy trips or expensive shopping sprees, but I could get an orange. Simple pleasures sometimes mean the most.