It's that time of year again.

My orange trees are laden with fruit. I am the worst gardener, orchard keeper, Lady of the vineyard, and green thumb around. And yet, my trees produce fruit every new year without fail. I forget to water. I never fertilize. I don't know what the word "prune" means in the verb sense. But you just can't stop my trees.

And so, it is orange season around here.

My kids are picking. I'm juicing and juicing and juicing and making loads of orange chicken.

We have more oranges than we know what to do with. We may even have to try to marmalade this year. I need to do some research to see if it's possible to get Vitamin C poisoning.

Using a method I learned in my college astronomy class to count stars, I counted my oranges.

10,500.

Oranges.

At least!

Seriously.

Now that's a lot of marmalade. Even for the English.

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If you'd like me to send you a box of oranges, just email me (you can use the link on my sidebar even though it looks imposing...I don't know how to change that). Come on, I know you Canadians would love a box of sunshine right about now. Actually, I'll just send one anyway...I already know where a few of you are. And if any of you have any recipes with oranges, orange juice, orange peel, orange-on-the-side, looks-lovely-with-an-orange-slice-garnish, please pass them along.