The Citrus Arch

I found a thick ribbon of fresh orange peel curled across the corner of the wooden cutting board. When I pressed my palms against its ribbed outer curve, the peel sprang back with a fragrant wobble, filling the morning air with a bright, zesty mist. Curious to see how sturdy it was, I ducked low and stepped right through the citrus tunnel. The underside was lined with soft, spongy white pith that felt remarkably dry and cushioned underfoot. I rested one hand against the inner arch, looking out through the curved opening while a single tiny bead of golden citrus oil glistened on the pebbled rim above.