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Layla and I went to Northridge for breakfast at an ube-centric restaurant, Ninang's Cafe (GREAT - more on that later.) While we were in the neighborhood, we noticed a bunch of orange trees growing on the sidewalk, laden with bright fruit.
I invoked the principle of usufruct (use the fruit, i.e., you can pick fruit on public property or limbs overhanging into it or your property, so long as you don't damage the tree) and we pulled over. However, the fruit within easy reach had been thoroughly foraged already.
But we were undaunted! And also, I had not one, but TWO pairs of crutches. And there was a handy fire hydrant for me to lean on...
Truly, fruit foraging is a deeply womanly art going back to the time of the cavewomen, in which brave women warriors set out to pluck the mammoth-fruit. I felt deeply connected to the ancient roots of this hallowed feminine tradition when I clambered from my car just as women once leaped from the backs of their trusty riding-zebras, swinging boldly on my crutches as did the wounded women fruit-hunters of yore.
Behold! The valiant fruit foragers!
The mighty hunters pose for a triumphant shot with their quarry:
We got three. Alas, most were either too high or too small to be grabbed by crutches.
They were delicious.
I invoked the principle of usufruct (use the fruit, i.e., you can pick fruit on public property or limbs overhanging into it or your property, so long as you don't damage the tree) and we pulled over. However, the fruit within easy reach had been thoroughly foraged already.
But we were undaunted! And also, I had not one, but TWO pairs of crutches. And there was a handy fire hydrant for me to lean on...
Truly, fruit foraging is a deeply womanly art going back to the time of the cavewomen, in which brave women warriors set out to pluck the mammoth-fruit. I felt deeply connected to the ancient roots of this hallowed feminine tradition when I clambered from my car just as women once leaped from the backs of their trusty riding-zebras, swinging boldly on my crutches as did the wounded women fruit-hunters of yore.
Behold! The valiant fruit foragers!
The mighty hunters pose for a triumphant shot with their quarry:
We got three. Alas, most were either too high or too small to be grabbed by crutches.
They were delicious.
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