Posted: 13 December 2009 in observations

I have vines growing from my ears.  Twisting, turning, thick green vines curling out of my ears, around my lobes and looping gently over my shoulders.  I must.  I’ve swallowed the seeds from thousands of tangerines.

When I was little, my grandparents babysat.  For lunch, my grandfather ate tomato soup and one tangerine.  He ate on a television tray in his glassed-in sunroom and he did it whether it was winter or summer.  I’m not positive there was even a tv in the room which makes me wonder if it was me he was watching over lunch.  Incidentally, for breakfast he had blueberry muffins (the sort that came from a box with a can of blueberries) or blueberries in half and half with a spoonful of sugar.  For dinner, he had applesauce with his pork chops and cranberries with turkey.  I wonder if he had fruit with every meal.

The tangerines were just that, not today’s clementines.  They had seeds and popped with juice and had a bare minimum of stringy pith.  He peeled, picked out the seeds and ate each slice.  I peeled, pulled off each bit of the pith and ate the slice, seeds and all.  To this, my grandfather would say “If you eat those seeds, you’ll grow vines out your ears!”

I’ve always been stubborn.  It’s no wonder there are vines growing out of my ears.

  1. Holly says:

    I popped over here from Holidailies. You’ve made me think about my kids eating satsumas — local here to Louisiana — and now I feel like I want to start kidding them about seeds and vines and ears.

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