Farm life series #4: unripe oranges
The context: I have moved to a Finca (farm) in the Alpujarra, Southern Spain in late November 2021. It has no potable water, no glass in the windows and no heating. However, it does have a lot of heart and a kind farmer whose finca it was for three generations looking out for me. It has beautiful views during the day and a sky full of stars at night and it is quiet. Like a balm to my soul. It has slow and limited internet and a library full of books that I have dragged with me all over Europe. I have decided to write some reflections about life here as I grow into it.
As I slowly make my way up the hill laden with a full basket of oranges the farmer gives me a look as if to say this crazy foreigner has no idea what she is doing… he says: “¿no son un poco fuertes?” translated to aren’t they still unripe? Yes they are certainly astringent at least the one I tried was edible but not at all sweet. I have picked around 3kgs but carrying them in the basket up the hill it feels more like 10kg, I can feel the stretch in my thighs and I am pretty sure my arm is about to fall off at any moment now.
I offer him some oranges and he quickly refuses saying those are mine and they’re only good for juicing. He says when the time comes to harvest them he will bring down the car so I don’t have to carry them up like this. The trees look very full and I am looking forward to…
