growing up, my grandpa had an orchard (personal, not commercial). he grew just about anything you could ask for: blackberries, boysenberries, raspberries, cherries, pears, various apples and plums, oranges, lemons, limes, grapefruits, french prunes, black and white figs, fuyu and hachiya persimmons… and that’s not counting the strawberries and grapes in the garden.
they called me the fruitarian, because i’d spend all day outside eating fruit. as a toddler i’d wander underneath the apple trees taking the good bites out of each of the fallen apples. i actually remember one time when i spent so much time standing under the orange tree (picking, peeling, and eating the fruit) that they worried for my health and they wouldn’t let me outside for the rest of the day.
all of that to say, fruit has held a special place in my heart for as long as i can remember. i feel a little sad inside when i see abandoned fruit! my coping mechanism is to – surprise! – take pictures. i don’t always have a camera on me, but i’ve caught a number of them on cameraphone. i’ve missed some of the best (pre-cameraphone), however… in particular, the pineapple thrown over the wrought iron fence into the narrow side lawn of the greek orthodox cathedral (parker st at ruggles st). that one is stuck in my mind almost a decade later.
am i the only one who sees fruit and other produce lying around, abandoned?