Let's get the etymology out of the way first. It ought to come as no surprise that tangerine was originally an adjective meaning 'of Tangier', the Moroccan seaport from which the fruit was first shipped, given that it grows in that region of the north African country. It was in fact once known scientifically as 'Citrus nobilis var. tangeriana', though its modern binomial is simply Citrus tangerina. The OED cites the first usage of tangerine from an edition of The Tatler in 1710. Morocco to this day is still the fourth largest producer of tangerines behind China (the world's biggest grower, though their variety is more commonly known as mandarin), Spain and Türkiye.
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| Tangerines |
Tangerines are easier to grow than many other citrus fruits. They can even be grown in containers indoors. They require these key components:
- a mineral rich soil that does not decompose, and contains live microbials
- organic fertiliser without synthetic salts
- regular watering to keep soil moist but never waterlogged
- a minimum 6 to 8 hours of sunshine during the growing period (May to September in our hemisphere)
- a temperature than never drops below freezing
Tangerine trees take four years to reach maturity and start fruiting. They can eventually grow up to 15 feet tall, but can be kept more compact (6 to 8 feet) in a container or if pruned regularly. A healthy tangerine tree can produce up to 100 lbs or 45 kilos of fruit each season and will continue to fruit for up to fifty years if well maintained.
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| well maintained tangerine trees |
The colour tangerine (as separate from orange) didn't appear in print until 1899. As an historical back note, even the word orange was a latecomer to the official spectrum of recognised colours. Until the arrival of oranges in 13th century Europe (brought to Spain from Persia by Arabs), and the naming of the colour after the fruit (nārang in Persian which became naranja in Spanish, with "have a naranja" eventually morphing into "have an orange" in English), objects of a shade between red and yellow were always described by the compound word reddish-yellow or yellowish-red (geoluhread in Old English).
Nowadays, tangerine, also known as 'vibrant orange', has a hex designation #f28500 in computer graphics and a Pantone number 15-1247 in the painting and printing trades. And we in the jewel of the north are very proud that our local football team plays in tangerine (not orange) and white, a tradition which actually began in 1923, before which time Blackpool played in a variety of fairly ordinary red or blue kits. It is not unusual to hear or read us being referred to as the Tangerines, as well as the Seasiders.
And so to my latest poem, which also lends its name to the title of my upcoming second collection due some time in the spring. More on that later. For now, I give you...
Tangerine
Sitting in the shade of this tangerine treea quiet hour devouring you page by page
my false bride, your Christmas stockings
eyes of night dimpled smile lips as bright
my false bride, your Christmas stockings
eyes of night dimpled smile lips as bright
as morning sunlight striking citrus. Folies
fade in memory. Your hex code printed on
emotions soft and slow to ripen till waxen
peel yields up its mist of essential oil, zest
as promise of cool flesh in segments fresh
and full which pressed to bursting squirt a
sweetness on my tongue. The tang itself of
life, of love, reveals in complex favours by
degrees, a liquid fire to quench such lusting
as is chaptered within. End of my questing,
just rind and spit pips attesting you’ve won
an unintentioned heart. Love you tangerine.
sweetness on my tongue. The tang itself of
life, of love, reveals in complex favours by
degrees, a liquid fire to quench such lusting
as is chaptered within. End of my questing,
just rind and spit pips attesting you’ve won
an unintentioned heart. Love you tangerine.
I couldn't write on the subject of fruit trees without leaving a small musical bonus in the form of Nick Drake's beautiful song: Fruit Tree from the LP 'Five Leaves Left'. It might have been inspired by his visit to Morocco in 1967.Just click on the song title to activate the YouTube link. Enjoy.




24 comments:
Fabulous Tangerine poetry. 🍊
Tangerine through and through. Expected nothing less. 🧡
It was a surprise to me about Tangiers.
Fascinating history of the colour.
And also a surprise about have a naranja.
I suspect that there are quite a few other names that the team are called.
Congrats on the poem.
I'd love the story about nuns and Christmas stockings and tangerines to be true. What a fascinating blog and an intriguing poem.
I love the poem. How do I get details of your new book?
I was enjoying your list of fruits, so wondered if you skipped forward from g to t because it gets difficult around h and i. 😉
Interesting about tangerines though, and I like the latest poem.
I'm not entirely sure what the poem is about but I'm starting on 3 tangerines a day right away.
An excellent read, Steve. Wasn't that Nick Drake song prophetic! Well done with the tantalising tangerine poem. 👏
A lovely and informative blog. Tangerines do always remind me of Christmas as a child. We got them in our stockings and they were wrapped in tissue paper with 'Maroc' printed on. I love the line "your hex code printed on emotions soft and slow to ripen".
Haruka (an h fruit). Enjoyed your blog and poem.
What's happened to the football team? Tangerine gone a bit to rot these last weeks.
Great zestful blog Steve, and pleased to read your second collection is in the offing. Sign me up.
Fascinating about tangerines. Is your poem about what I think it is, or am I misreading it?
What a great read. Yes I remember tangerines in Christmas stockings. I only wish I had a conservatory big enough to house a tangerine tree. That's a zesty poem.
I never realised tangerine was from Tangier, but it's so obvious really. My grandparents had a tangerine tree in their garden (in Malta), fun sized fruit and easy to peel. It's a beautifully suggestive poem. 🍊🧡
I also remember them as a youngster at Christmas, wrapped in tissue. I never realised then that 'Maroc' was Morocco. We used to have boxes of dates with that on as well. Sweet memories, all seemed very exotic. Your blog was an education. A tangerine for teacher.
Charlotte, obviously I don't know what you're thinking (as you didn't say), but my belief is that it's up to the reader to make whatever he or she wishes of the poem. There is no correct or incorrect meaning.
Such a lovely blog. By coincidence, this from a novel I'm reading at the moment - They made their assignations in the morning market, behind pyramids of tangerines or over trays of silver fish all wet and glistening.
Enjoyed this. Tangerines are magical, sunshine fruit.
A great read. As the climate warms, it is now possible to grow lemons, limes and tangerines outdoors on the south coast of Cornwall (with temporary polytunnels to protect against the worst winter spikes). Excellent poetry as well.
Enjoyed this one, Steve. I've not eaten a tangerine for ages but I'm shopping today... Great poem and good news about the new book.
Delicious 🧡
What a delight on a drear day. I love the poem. Also, how intriguing about 'yellow-red' and how recent words for the various shades of orange are.
Nice one Steve. Super poem. Sign me up for the next collection.
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