Friday, September 30, 2011

Of Comparing Apples and Oranges

I've been admiring an orange tree from the side of the road.

This is amazing, due to the fact that I live in Southern Mississippi.

One just doesn't see orange trees all that much.

Yet, there it was, in all it's heavily-fruited splendor, just waiting for me - no - make that, beckoning me to draw near and partake of it's lusciousness.

So I did.

At first, I just pulled into the driveway.  I plotted my approach.  That determined, I stepped out of the car, picked up the delivered newspaper that had landed in the drive, and marched with it under my arm up to the front door.  Things looked a little too . . . stuffy there.  I decided no one had used the front door in at least three months.  Therefore, I meandered around to the side of the house, and rang the doorbell of the obvious entry point.  Of course, I needn't have ~ the yappy little creature of a dog on the inside made my presence known quite well.

No one answered.

Were they avoiding me, thinking I was some type of sales person or scam artist?  Didn't they know I was their NEIGHBOR, for pete's sake?  Well, after a reasonable amount of time, I set the paper down beside the door with care, and retreated to the car.

I placed my camera bag on the hood, and unzipped the compartment.  Since I was operating without explicit permission, and I was definitely in the neighbor's yard, I decided to go with the lens I had on ~ my trusty macro.  With one swift motion I was at the tree - still laden, still beckoning, still drawing me to it's side.

But it was a ruse.

A bonafide, deliberate, apparent deception on the part of the tree toward me, the candidate upon which it had thrust it's lusty self.

It was no orange tree at all!

Furthermore, it wasn't an apple tree, either.

Nor a persimmon.

Whatever it was, it sure was something I've never laid eyes on . . .

So I began taking photos.

One by one; this angle, that; snap, snap, snap.

I was highly aware of the traffic behind me, and the house before me, and that yappy little dog shut up betwixt us.

I decided I'd better skedaddle.

And I did.


Once home, I realized - I hadn't honed in on the uniqueness of this fruit.  It's ruffled edge, it's characteristic peach-like bottom . . . I'd been too aware of offending the neighbor.

I knew right then and there ~

I'd be going back.

Maybe this time, they'll open the door.



LittleWomenMom said...

Missus Wookie said...

Looks a bit like some of the persimmon trees I saw at Kew. Here the fruit is tiny - just hasn't been hot enough, the tour guide said in Italy last week the persimmons were orange sized.

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