We were ecstatic to be camping in an orange grove in California not too far out from Bakersfield.
The camp host said we could pick as many oranges as we wanted, as long as
- we did not climb the trees, and
- we did not use a ladder.
We could, however, use “personal pickers.”
Unfortunately for us, previous ecstatic campers had cleared the lower branches, and all that remained were oranges at the top of the trees and a few that had fallen.
Also, unfortunately for us, our “personal pickers” were a handful of scrappy kiddos that were really good at scooting up trees for apples, cherries, and bragging rights.
So, no oranges for us. Well, except for a few the enthusiastic gatherer and his dog picked up off the ground.
the scent was intoxicating, much like the lilac bush back on Grandma’s farm, except it was everywhere and permeated the trailer such that we could still smell it when we popped back into the trailer down the road.
Sitting outside in the grove on a crisp California morning with a daughter and a dog is, I must say only about a jelly donut shy of bliss.
And did I mention they had free donuts?
It was a great experience despite the lack of edible oranges, and we had our consolation fruit awaiting us for the next leg of the journey.