The Last Two...

I have plenty to blog about, including the last bits of the London trip, but am stuck on oranges. On two oranges in particular.  The last two remaining on our wildly prolific orange tree outside our bedroom window.  There's something about that color orange against the green when I wake up in the morning that makes me excited to get up and on with things.  Well, almost.

I now have exactly TWO oranges left on the tree.  This is not due to squirrel consumption.  This is due to the Breville Company which invented the best citrus juicer known to man, which caused Rob and I to become fresh-squeezed-orange-juice-addicts.  It's a good thing that Rob's sister, Marguerite, and family didn't stay longer, else I would have run out of oranges in December, as they became addicts as well. 

Every morning for the past several months, I've trotted out to my tree and picked four oranges - two for me, two for Rob.  My juicer manages to squeeze every last drop from their gorgeousness and we drink as if we've discovered some fantastical elixir.  I guess that's what happens to people who don't drink alcohol. They find a substitute. Mine used to be Diet Coke. Now, it's definitely orange juice. 

I guess tomorrow morning it will be one small glass for Rob, one small glass for Anne.  And then we will patiently wait while our lovely tree regroups and reblossoms, and we will eagerly await the first signs of the color orange outside our bedroom window.