I took a picture of an orange tree that grows on the other side of the fence. That fence separates my apartment’s parking lot from the neighbor’s back yard. Seems basic, but I’ve lived in my building for 5 years and I’ve always wanted to take a picture of the orange tree. A little because I adore urban fruit trees, and a little because every year the orange tree has a story to tell me.
This year the orange blossoms and winter fruit dying and thriving on the same root resonated with my feelings that this spring even amidst the great expansion and rising energy there was still some unfinished, un-picked, uneaten, undesirable, neglected and desiccated element existing side by side in real time with Nature’s unfolding newness. With all the internal and external pressure to shed/transform/release this that or the other with the phases of the moon or on the exhale of your breath in a somatic context; it is a relief to see with my eyes the complexity of moving into a new season. Also, it has yet to be confirmed that the oranges on the other side of the fence are desiccated- all I need to do is reach over and pick one.