The weirdness of our situation of growing both apples and oranges struck me this week, first of all by seeing bananas still on our neighbor’s banana trees across the street, next by the 84 degree weather we had yesterday, and finally by the aroma of orange blossoms that is permiating the air while we’re grafting thousands of apple trees. I’m very much aware of the fact that others are in unheated barns right now trying to graft with cold, numb fingers, and so we’re very thankful.
My mother-in-law still remembers when Riverside was carpeted with orange groves and said the smell during blossom season was all-consuming, overpowering you with giddiness and bliss. To me it is a harbinger of coming spring along with hearing the mockingbird singing all night (what’s up with that, anyway?). So I cut a sprig of orange blossoms and have them in a water bottle on the grafting bench while waiting for the beauty and much more subtle aroma of apple blossoms that are just around the corner.