Monday, February 18, 2013

Little to report...


... except today I ate a tangerine,


or perhaps it was a clemenvilla.


 I think it was. I don't think tangerines exist any more.


And now the sun has shone for three whole days.

The former event is not unusual, the latter is.

That's all for now.

16 comments:

The Crow said...

I would never have thought that a piece of fruit could be so provocative, almost erotic in it's citrusy way, but these images are just that! Beautiful, luscious, inviting; entrancing in the way light dances off its skin, makes the flesh translucent; the beads of juice like fine honeyed amber washed up from the sea.

That last image, especially, looks as if one of the Dutch masters had just finished adding the final touch of oil paint to it.

Lucy, your work is so extraordinarily breath-taking. Thank you for posting this.

Dale said...

Oh. Gorgeous!

Bruce Taylor, a.k.a. Catalyst said...

SWMBO says people liked the taste but they didn't like the seeds in tangerines. So they've been hybridized (her word, not mine) into clementines and Cuties. Actually she says Cuties (that's a brand name) are probably Mandarin oranges. Whatever. Your pictures are stunning, Lucy, so call 'em what you will, eat 'em and enjoy!

Bruce Taylor, a.k.a. Catalyst said...

Lucy,

SWMBO fell in love with your third picture. I printed it out on photo paper for her, 8 by 10, glossy, and she says she's going to frame it. Promise we won't try to sell it though. Just enjoy it.

..Bruce

Lucy said...

Thanks dears.

I remember hearing that about tangerines years ago, at the time satsumas came on the market, which have been popular in the UK ever since, but apparently nowhere else, at least not in Europe. They have a loose skin and are very easy to peel, rather bland, and hence popular for kids. Everywhere else favours clementines, apparently. These clemenvillas I've only been awareof in recent years, though apparently they were developed in the 1940s, a hybrid of a clementine and some kind of grapefruit. They are larger and tighter skinned and quite acid, but very flavourful. I made quite a few of this batch into marmalade; I find if you can't get proper Seville oranges, which I never can, clementine types are best because of the thin peel and absence of pith, as long as you don't overboil them at the initial stage, and add a couple of lemons. The clemenvillas produced particularly good results, being quite sharp and juicy.

I seem to have become a citrus fruit anorak...

Bruce - you're very welcome, but is the resolution high enough? I generally shrink them to about 800 px wide - I can send you a larger version if you like...

Roderick Robinson said...

Rather bland! Easy to peel! And I eat one a day. I have spat in the aisle of the church of St Lucy and must now crawl away, unworthily.

Rouchswalwe said...

Wow. I'll have to eat one slowly in sunlight next time. Mmmm.

Jean said...

Little to report, but much to take pleasure in - quite wonderful photographs!

Nimble said...

You're not a citrus anorak until you've started eating the giant pomelos. They are often set out as offerings for asian shrines. Mostly peel unfortunately but the inside is beautiful pale pink or green and tastes like a mild grapefruit.

Oh and -- Sun! Yum!

Joe Hyam said...

Your brief post is almost a haiku. And an outstanding one too. Or are you employed by the Tangerine Marketing Board? I feel impelled to run out and buy one, Eating a tangerine becomes a profound almost mystical experience, And the sunlight on the tranclucent segments! Sublime.

Sheila said...

Beautiful, beautiful. The light coming through them....amazing.

Bruce Taylor, a.k.a. Catalyst said...

Lucy, the picture came out beautifully. Thanks again.

Ellena said...

I'm sitting here - looking at these pictures, mouth wide open and in speechless admiration.

zephyr said...

my mouth is tingling
so alive are your photos

marly youmans said...

After this, I need to go downstairs and eat some light.

Crafty Green Poet said...

what a beautiful series of photos - but clementines, satsumas, tangerines, i never know the difference