Oranges and sunshine

The smell of oranges which lingered for a number of days in my house has now gone. All the marmalade is made.
With snow outside and freezing temperatures, I am watching images of the South of France on the TV screen, bright blue skies and brilliant sunshine. I'm following the lives of painters who moved from Paris to live in the South at the end of the 19th century and beginning of the 20th century. All the painters who mean something to me - Cézanne and  Matisse amongst the many. I see the way the light in the South, the colours and shapes and the beauty of the Côte d'Azur changed the way they painted and I share the facination and love they had for the place. I see the trees laden with  bitter oranges growing in the bright sunshine of Nice- the Bigarade oranges, the French equivalent of Seville oranges. 

When I was young I stayed a few times in Dundee with a boyfriend who was a student there. I remember the smell of oranges from the famous Keiller factory. The story goes that in the 18th century a Spanish ship carrying a load of oranges from Seville got into trouble in a storm around the coast of Dundee. Keiller bought up the oranges which would otherwise have perished and his wife made them into marmalade. That was the beginning and it's hard to believe that in the 21st century marmalade is still going strong.