In India we did not have oranges. We had sweet limes and mandarins (that we called oranges). Perhaps decades later, things have changed.
My mother came from a region well known for oranges. We would get big woven baskets of fruit around Christmas time, the peel crystallized for Christmas cake. My father would make the most delicious orange mousse, peeling pith off each segment so carefully, for decoration. I loved the fresh smell of orange peel, and the leftover segments that was shared equally. So, naturally, it is my happy fruit.
Orange makes me happy for other reasons.
Who doesn’t love a roaring, orange campfire burning in a ten gallon drum, like one I experienced at a cattle station in the Kimberley. Just add billy tea, cowboys and music, and I’m in a happy place again.A blazing sunset at Cable Beach, Broome. One of my favourite beaches to visit.The orange sands of Cemetery Beach, in Port Hedland, where we waited for turtles hatchlings, patiently. Yes, the beach is across from the town’s cemetery!The beautiful ranges in the far north Kimberley that erupt from the ground. The light play is stunning at sunset or dawn.The delicate wings of a dragonfly, etched in gold and orange.The silent full moon that creeps up at night, unexpectedly.The soft sage like eyes of an emu.A lantern at dusk, that signals, this is home.
Orange is no longer just a happy fruit. It is an experience, for me.
Until next time
a dawn bird