Winter Oranges On The 4th of July

I like to eat oranges. Recently I read an article in an English publication about how the popularity of oranges has dropped in that country. It seems consumers think it's just too much trouble to peel them.

Every year about Christmas and on through the winter months when oranges are fresh and easy to find I'm reminded of several stories my dad used to tell me when I was a boy. One was about oranges. My father grew up in north central Florida. During the 1920s when he was a young boy oranges were always close by in season. By the time boys reached six or seven years old they carried pocketknives. Usually a jackknife or Barlow. Young boys (to young to even be allowed to own a pocketknife by today's standards) were proficient at whittling, carving or a playing a game of mumbly-peg. Sometimes oranges or a single orange was the only present to look forward to at Christmas. Dad told me how they would peel the oranges in one long peel and tack them to the wall or a fireplace mantle where they would dry. The peels would dry until the 4th of July. On the 4th the ends of the peels were set on fire. An old dry orange peel will snap and crackle and give off a few sparks and smoke and sizzle as it burns. And it smells good. Dad said it was sort of a poor man's fireworks. His story along with my imagination as a little boy made it quite a tale.

When I was a boy my dad taught me to peel oranges with my pocket knife the same way. I still like to do it that way.

It's really easier to peel them like this and you don't get orange juice all over your hands.

But, that's not the reason I peel this way. I still do it this way because I remember the story my dad told me forty five years ago each time I peel an orange.

So, every winter I tack a few orange peels up to dry and think about some childhood stories my dad shared and hope my children will have as much fun remembering some things I taught them when they were little.

Before you know it the 4th of July will be here. I'll be ready.