We are lucky to be living in Central California where good things grow. Carolyn, our neighbor across the valley, has an orchard of citrus trees that has been producing scrumptious fruit for well over a hundred years. Recently we traded some of our Seville oranges (tart, nasty things that are good only for marmalade) for some of her navel oranges, the sweetest kind. We have one a day with breakfast and cut the orange into either six or eight pieces depending on how hungry we are.
It reminds me of the joke about the guy who orders a pizza and the order taker asks him if he wants it cut into six pieces or eight pieces. “Better cut it into six pieces. I don’t think I can eat eight pieces.”