Most of the memory I have about my grandfather are related
to his orange trees. I used to spend most of my summer with my grandparents
until I came to the US. They live in a very small town that’s about four hours
away from Wuhan, where I am from. My grandpa started planting orange trees when
my dad was a kid, and it turned into a hill full of orange trees. The hill was
my favorite place to play as a kid. Also, my grandpa would always plant
watermelon on the ground beneath the orange trees during summer.
I intend to use the slanted base to represent the hill. And I
made the base with red cardboard because this is the color that best represents
the mud in my hometown. The red mud we have is a result of the high temperature
and humidity, and it is less fertile compare to other kind of mud. My grandpa
raised my dad and his six siblings with his oranges upon this red mud.
The color of the oranges are exactly how I remembered them
to be towards the end of August, before I leave my grandparents’ place. Even
though some of them never turn yellow, and they are not the prettiest oranges, they
are the best oranges that contain so much childhood memory and memory about
grandpa. My grandma still ships us buckets of oranges every summer. Even though grandpa is no longer with us, him and his oranges still impact our entire family in many ways.
No comments:
Post a Comment