Tangerines

Ahh... California.

What joy to step outside and pick whatever assortment of citrus—
navels, lemons, tangerines, grapefruit, etc.—and eat them on the spot.
I must have eaten at least two dozen already. Indeed, there is such an
abundance that one could host a group citrus fight right there in the
backyard, with no thoughts of wastefulness on the conscience. And each
juicy fruit an individual, teeming with sunshine and delight, just
waiting for a mouthful of teeth to gouge it's bitter skin.

I walk into the kitchen and what do I see? A small box full of very
store-bought tangerines. With a tangerine tree not ten yards and a
wall from where I am standing!

I guess it just goes to show that we learn to be indifferent to what
we are familiar with.