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Bruce E Whitacre
a book bubble about
The Elk in the Glade
Literature & Fiction
Author Insight
Christmas Oranges
My great-grandmother, Jennie, loved holidays. She had very warm memories of their first holidays on the prairie, and of the Christmas oranges that arrived by train. Warm wishes to readers and friends. May your holidays be merry, sweet and orange.
Book Excerpt
The Elk in the Glade
Father called her into the kitchen.
“I want you to see these first, Jennie. Remember?”
His carpenter’s hands, deft and hard, pried a crate open.
Golden spheres burned into view, sweet and strange.
“Oranges!” she cried. Father laughed, “They made the last train.”
She remembered from last year to peel them first.
The flesh exploded in her mouth—
Ocean. Green. Warm. Sunshine.
She closed her eyes and swallowed. Not here, in one taste.
She carried a bowlful into the parlor.
The music stopped. The dancers paused.
She beamed as everyone surrounded her, each reaching for
an orange, the only one any of them would eat that year.
The night froze in her memory like crystals on the panes,
melting into a tale from time to time, like now,
for me, then freezing again for the next blue hour.
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