1.20.365: The best thing about January.

Until I lived in central California, I didn’t realize oranges were a winter fruit. Oranges say summer to me. I was shocked to find out they aren’t. In the winter, they are sweet perfection; in the summer, they are bland and dry.

It’s better this way. Now I think oranges are tiny slices of summer that come visit me just when I need an escape from the bleakness of winter.

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