Grapefruit overdue

This was to be a post a while back, but . . . . whatever.

Several weeks back I bought a bag of grapefruit. I realize it's grossly out of season, but I was hopeful and pining for spring . . . as I usually am. I am one that is not meant to be inside - frankly, I don't stay inside when it's cold anyway, but I certainly enjoy it more when the wind is warm and the smells don't make your nasal passages seize from the shock of cold.

Anyway, W went down for a nap and I quietly was resting body and mind at our dining room table. I thought I would try one of the grapefruit and so began that painstaking job of peeling it. I'll have you know, these particular ones were not easy to peel and the membranes surrounding the actual fruit - the stuff you usually eat, was tastelessly thick. It had to be peeled as well. It more resembled surgery and the leftover "garden rubbish" from the exercise was fairly impressive.

However, as I was peeling away the tasteless membraney part, I was arrested (and I'm not using that word to be dramatic - that's truly what happened) by the beauty of grapefruit color. Then began to notice how powerful each little pocket of juice was - perfectly fitted next to, above and below the other powerful pockets of juice. Beautiful and tense with life and delicate and amazing. I cried.

As an artist, you often see other art or clever things and think one of two things - "I could have done that." Arrogant, I know. Or you think, "I wish I would have thought of that first." But today, in awe - truly - I thought, "I never ever ever would have thought of this. Nor would I have ever ever ever been able to create anything close."

Thank you God for taking the time to make grapefruit such a tremendous color and such a punchy, sassy flavor. Thank you for your infinite attention to detail and for making things for us to enjoy, because I DO enjoy them. Forgive my lazy familiarity.