Marmalade

 I've been feeling guilty about the oranges.  There's an orange tree between the barn and the cottage, and it put out a dozen or so orange this year.  I ate one of them.  The others were still hanging there, getting pithy.

They're another trigger.  Bob was so pleased that a little tree that we planted actually survived and put out oranges.  When we took our daily walk, three loops around our property, on the last one he would stop and pick an orange.  He would hold it in his hands, smell it, smile a satisfied happy smile, peel it, hand half to me, and then eat it, segment by segment, so pleased to be eating something that he grew himself.

So, when I picked an orange during my solo walk, and ate it alone, I ended up on the ground weeping.  And I let the others just hang there, but feeling guilty about it.

So tonight I picked a half dozen, sliced them, and boiled them down in sugar syrup.  I can't exactly say I made marmalade  because I've never been successful at that (it just stays oranges in syrup).  But they're cooked down, and in jars, and I'll use them.  I like using it in dipping sauces or mixed with soy and put on salmon.  I often put a bit of orange into stir fry.  Tomorrow I'll pick the rest and do the same (best to do it in small batches).

So there's another small guilty itch, scratched.