Hope from a blood orange

It is the end of February and winter continues with a vengeance in the Inland Northwest. The long-range forecast does not seem to offer much relief. Such are the conditions that often drive me to daydreams of warmer climes. I muse over travel brochures and dream of the hopeful green daffodil shoots that herald the advent of another gardening year. I feel anxious over the robins and other wild creatures who are eking out a survival at the very end of their proverbial rope. Frankly, the land has given up most of its leftovers and little remains. Often, I feel the same way come March.

In such a moment the other day, I happened to open a blood orange for my daughter's lunch. 

The peel itself is a gorgeous blend of sunset orange and pink. When prised open, it releases the expected citrus aroma with a certain tang that is absent in its delicious but more pedestrian cousins. Inside, the color is deeply crimson to coral. It really is almost enough to just look at it. Almost. 

I gave my daughter most of the orange, but, attracted by the gorgeous show of color, let myself enjoy some of it too. I inhaled the sweet-tart scent as I peeled the pith from each section. Instead of eating them quickly in the usual hurry of lunch, I allowed myself to take a minute and really taste the sweet juice as it exploded in little bursts between my teeth. I felt lifted. Certainly God knew what he was about in bringing citrus into season during these bleak, gray winter months. Oranges never attract me like this in the rest of the year.

Sometimes life is unabashedly beautiful. In those times when the sun is golden and the garden is growing, it is easy to feel buoyed up by the loveliness around oneself. But, in those moments of interminable winter, it is almost natural to miss the more subtle glories of living. It is easy to just want to escape to some other place where the sun is shining, the birds are nest building, and no one is complaining about the weather. But, if I look only beyond my current experience to one that is ostensibly more attractive, I will likely miss the unique and beautiful moments in the now. These blood orange moments are enough, for now, to lift me from the listlessness of a survival mindset to a more vibrant, hopeful point of view.