Good Morning Gentle Readers,
TWC often walks this way. It's over the ridge, on the plateau where Navel Oranges once grew in an area several miles square. Odds are you've eaten one of them, although this was the periphery of So Cal's version of the Gold Rush.
They're gone now, victimized by the price of water or, perhaps, enticed into early demise by the dazzle of the developer's patter. Not that the patter is buying anything in this county. The Guy has been working on that for eight years. Ain't no percentage in it now, The County has seen to that. Meanwhile, the interest is still due quarterly.
Gone now. Except this one (and a couple of others).
Why this one? Who decided that this tree was to be spared the bulldozer and the chainsaw? To what purpose? For what reason? The others are long since cleared, cut to size, stacked into cordwood, and shrink wrapped into five log bundles, which you'll find at Christmas time, where summer Kingsford was neatly stacked on the front porch of the local Whole Foods or Pavilions. A couple of sweet-burning bundles of orange wood will do a lovely fire on Christmas Eve with la familia.