(Christmas and Orange Trees)
I invite you to imagine, if you will, wandering through the streets of Seville. It looks a bit like this:
The morning sun hits the rooftops of shuttered buildings and cuts down the walls in a sharp diagonal slant. The sun is a sudden pool of warmth on your face each time you step out of the cold shadow. Under your feet you can feel the tessellated hexagonal tiles of polished grey, which wind narrow and stretching between the terraced houses and the churches.
Upwards stretch the neat whitewash walls, intricate ceramic patterns and terracotta tiles, against a striking blue sky. The house on the end has a roof terrace- with aloe vera and palms poking into view.
And now you look down again to notice the small plaza in front of you, where every morning people drink their coffee, talk to the local greengrocer who stands in her doorway, and where a group of men arrive daily to carry items in and out of storage.
Some of the group sit on wicker chairs by the road, talking at full Sevillano volume in their hoarse, gravelly andalusian voices. A woman sits with them, smoking in the shade in her puffer jacket, and watching the labrador nearby who is soaking up the sun.
The orange trees, almost like a child's drawing, are bursting with fruit and colour. Perfectly round. But something is different today. Advent begins tomorrow and so Christmas will be 'switched on' across the city. In one naranjo tree sit two men in their cherry picker, shouting to one another as they dress it in Christmas lights. It seems so incongruous in the warm bath of sunlight that one can't help but smile.
I invite you to imagine, if you will, wandering through the streets of Seville. It looks a bit like this:
The morning sun hits the rooftops of shuttered buildings and cuts down the walls in a sharp diagonal slant. The sun is a sudden pool of warmth on your face each time you step out of the cold shadow. Under your feet you can feel the tessellated hexagonal tiles of polished grey, which wind narrow and stretching between the terraced houses and the churches.
Upwards stretch the neat whitewash walls, intricate ceramic patterns and terracotta tiles, against a striking blue sky. The house on the end has a roof terrace- with aloe vera and palms poking into view.
And now you look down again to notice the small plaza in front of you, where every morning people drink their coffee, talk to the local greengrocer who stands in her doorway, and where a group of men arrive daily to carry items in and out of storage.
Some of the group sit on wicker chairs by the road, talking at full Sevillano volume in their hoarse, gravelly andalusian voices. A woman sits with them, smoking in the shade in her puffer jacket, and watching the labrador nearby who is soaking up the sun.
The orange trees, almost like a child's drawing, are bursting with fruit and colour. Perfectly round. But something is different today. Advent begins tomorrow and so Christmas will be 'switched on' across the city. In one naranjo tree sit two men in their cherry picker, shouting to one another as they dress it in Christmas lights. It seems so incongruous in the warm bath of sunlight that one can't help but smile.
Feliz Navidad, un prospero año y felicidad a tod@s 💛
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