Maybe in Southern Florida this isn’t that miraculous, but today, when Gus gave us a tour over at Paradise Farm, I picked a pomegranate straight off a tree. To me, this was a major event. Honestly, embarrassingly, I didn’t even know that pomegranates grew on trees. Jaimie and I hopped over to it like kids in a candy store.

It didn’t look like the ones you get in the grocery store. It was small, the skin spotty and half green. It was already splitting open, the gaping seams revealing the seeds inside, which weren’t entirely red, but half white. They still tasted good. They tasted great, actually. I broke it into chunks and we all continued on the walk, leaving a trail of peels and seeds in our wake.

I still love the North. I can’t wait to go back in the spring. I can’t imagine calling anywhere else home. But I’m getting really spoiled with this whole pick-tangerines-on-the-way-to-the-bathroom thing I’ve got going here. I wish I could take that with me.