My Oranges are sweet

I have a childhood memory of standing around the wastebasket in our kitchen while mother peeled oranges and shared them with us.  I recall one evening when we simply couldn't get enough oranges, and, as I recall, she just kept peeling until we had our fill.   I'm now thinking they must have been oranges from a tree very much like the one in my Phoenix back yard.

My orange tree has survived two bouts with consecutive morning freezes, and the fruit is still remarkably sweet and delicious.  I just peeled and ate one, thinking of my mother, and have prepared juice from several others, some of which I am now enjoying with a nice added shot of vodka.

Phoenix is certainly colder than I expected, and we're in our second bout, but if my oranges are still sweet and edible and there is no snow on the ground, I think I'll make it through another winter here just fine.