I peered over the cinder block wall and aimed very carefully. My fingers curled around the orange, like a pitcher ready to throw his fast ball. The orange had to land in just the right spot. I released. The orange zoomed through the air and landed on a grassy spot right next to my neighbor's back porch. Perfect! If I had hit her brick pathway instead, the orange would have split. I stepped down off the wobbly plastic chair and went to pick a few more oranges. I had to keep Jean alive.
Jean is about 88 and she is very much alive! She says my oranges keep her going. She is a wonder. She cleans her house, gardens, drags her trash cans out, and keeps an eye on the neighborhood. She loves to wake up on a winter morning, and see oranges on the grass--as if they were dropped from heaven (or the Easter Bunny).
I'll be back soon--I want to talk to you about "Wednesday Writers Club".
Hi and thanks for droping by my blog. From some of your photos California looks lovely. The only orange trees we can grow in England would be a spot plants in a conservatory; although I believe in the summer they could stand outside. Our winter are a bit too harsh for them. This is a beautiful photo. Regards to Jean; she sounds a fabulous woman.
ReplyDeleteAh, yes, you are so good to your neighbors. Watch for windows. What's a Gatekeeper to do to get a bag of oranges?????
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