Thank you life for citrus!
Discovering a box of California citrus on my doorstep, making olive oil sugar cookies with pistachio lemon glaze, and departing Massachusetts.
This past week has felt preciously fleeting and beautiful. I have decided to leave New England, and the -30 to -45 degree windchill seems to have arrived in time to be the wind at my back. Moving out in a week, I am spending my last two weeks honoring the sweet relationships which have emerged here. From collaboratively cooking a Ukrainian dinner, sharing local barley tea, or visiting Boston and getting ice cream (yes, an odd choice for - degree weather), I have been graced with beautiful company and wholehearted, connective conditions.
As I returned to my present abode from Boston, I discovered large packages at my doorstep. I immediately knew the package origin, none other than my dear Aunt Suzy in Ojai, California. I opened the first, filled with the sweetest gifts I know will inspire upcoming blogs. The second package was citrus galore; I presume it originated from the organic orchard which flourishes in her backyard.
The package of citrus seems like quite the serendipitous arrival. Winter-long, amid moments of feeling fruit deprived, I must admit I have scoured the internet in search of planet-friendly citrus to have shipped to my door (yes, this is a bit of a conflicting statement, insofar that something 'planet-friendly' would be shipped thousands of miles to my doorstep). Nevertheless, what turned me off from the pursuit was my inability to find an organic, small-scale orchard to source from, which makes sense. I assume that a small operating farm might not have the resources to set up an online shop, package, and ship produce across the country. It seems more likely that such farms would sell their produce directly to their communities or to larger middle agents to get their produce to wholesalers. It never occurred to me to check in with Aunt Suzy to see what she had fruiting!
In last week’s book club meeting, Aunt Suzy fondly envisioned us beyond our computer screens, all together at her home [which is fitly called Nature’s Rest] picking lemons and baking cookies. She continued the heart-warming vision with us going to a local park and sharing the abundant citrus and baked goods with those present. Just a week ago, that was a sweet dream in my heart, and now the possibility of it is my reality.
With a week remaining in Massachusetts, I have a short amount of time to make use of this beautiful and abundant citrus. I’ve begun by making olive oil sugar cookies with a pistachio lemon glaze to take to work on my last day as a thank you to my kind and supportive co-workers. That takes me to T minus one Meyer lemon (and t minus the two satsumas I’ve enjoyed :) ).
On that note, eating these incredible satsumas reminds me of part of the reason why I haven’t been consuming the store-bought varieties. There is something incomparably delectable about eating citrus fresh off the tree (not to mention lovingly plucked by a dear one). Eating the satsuma, I can only compare the taste to when I lived with Aunt Suzy and Uncle Bob for a winter. On days when I felt inclined to meditate in the morning before my virtual classes commenced, I ventured down through the orchard to Aunt Suzy’s pink meditation hut. As I would pass the citrus trees, I would pick two clementines to enjoy with black tea for breakfast- which fostered some of my favorite meditations. To this day, when I eat tangerines, mandarins, or clementines, I think of the Vietnamese Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh. I first discovered Thich Nhat Hanh’s tangerine meditation in his book Peace is Every Step. Since then, I’ve come across his tangerine meditation in several forms throughout his various works. The following is an excerpt of one of his tangerine meditations from the Plum Village website:
A tangerine is nothing less than a miracle. If you are truly there, and you look, the tangerine is a miracle. And if you are truly focussing on the tangerine, we see it is a wonder, it is a miracle.
You can see the tree. You can see the white flower and the rain and the sunshine that go into it. They’re still there. The white flower, the blossom, the tangerine blossom, is still there. And the rain and the fog and the sunshine are going through it. And you begin to see a very tiny green tangerine. And because the sunshine, the rain, continue to go through it, it continues to grow. And now it has acquired this beautiful shape. Beautiful. The whole cosmos has come together in order to produce this wonderful miracle, which is a tangerine. And only with mindfulness and some concentration, could I recognise the miracle of the tangerine.
-Thich Nhat Hanh
With his words in frame, of course, Aunt Suzy’s citrus is the best I’ve ever had. I’ve witnessed the trees, blossoms, birds, sunshine, and gardeners first-hand.
Beyond this soulful enjoyment of the citrus, even the flavor is unlike what is commonly found in groceries on the east coast. Enjoying these exquisitely fresh satsumas reminds me of this, as good citrus jogs my memory that I haven’t had it this good in some time. This is why I’d typically rather abstain from citrus consumption. I find myself less likely to appreciate the experience of citrus when I’m disconnected from its origin, and when by the time the citrus is passed through various intermediaries to get to the supermarket and into my hands, the flavor is mild at best. This goes without mentioning the range of apathy to curiosity I feel regarding the inextricable citrus origins [how does the citrus' farming effect the immediate environment, what is life like for the citrus laborers, how much fossil fuel is used for transport, etc.]. Therefore, it’s no wonder that Aunt Suzy’s citrus brings me joy; I feel excited and grateful to have the opportunity to share her citrus with the New Englanders in my life.
Starting today, I will take the remaining citrus with me where I go; I will pass it along until no more remains. When Aunt Suzy gives me lemons, I profess thank you life for citrus!