Sure, I love the beautiful, peaceful aftermath of a snowstorm, with the pure white fluffy stuff piled high like so much Marshmallow Fluff. But other than that, I can leave behind in a heartbeat the cold, the gray, and the icy.
On the other hand, one thing that we do get in winter that isn’t so great in summer is citrus fruit. I love a good orange and would travel the country to find a kumquat—even going so far as to buy a tree of my own (long story for another time, but it turned out it wasn’t a kumquat).
However. This week—in May!—I saw a bag of “raspberry oranges” in the grocery store and just had to try them. I learned that they are an inspired hybrid between the Pomelo and the Tangerine. Smallish oval fruits, their insides are a deep red.
Although they’re not overly sweet (and I like a sweet orange), they actually have a taste of raspberry in them. Wow.
But what makes the flesh so red? Well, raspberry oranges are simply the result of a natural mutation of the standard orange that led to the production of anthocyanins, the water-soluble flavonoids that make blueberries blue and blood oranges red.
So, then I wondered what was the difference between a raspberry orange and a blood orange? After all, both have deep red flesh.
It’s just marketing. Maybe producers, or their advertising managers, finally came around to understanding that the name “blood orange” sounds just plain creepy. (And this from somebody who writes mysteries.)
Any way you slice them—or call them— these fruits are delicious.

Late spring brings an enormous crop of rhubarb into my backyard. So much so that I end up giving a lot away and freezing the rest. After all, how much strawberry rhubarb pie or blueberry rhubarb crisp can one eat? (Actually, don’t answer that. My scale has told me exactly how much dessert I can eat.)
In the Book of Exodus, God promises to rescue the Hebrews “…from the hand of the Egyptians and to bring them up out of that land into a good and spacious land, a land flowing with milk and honey …”
By now, we all know the 3Rs: reduce, reuse, recycle. In addition to complying with those goals, many of us also compost. But as virtuous as composting makes me feel (and maybe even a little self-righteous), there is downside to the last of the list: drosophila, the mighty fruit fly. These little critters swarm in and around the compost bin, making me want to don a hazmat suit every time I need to go near it.