Our house in AZ is watched over by an old, lisbon lemon tree.
The tree is beautiful and faithfully produces. In 2011 we had several harsh, winter freezes- not something we are used to in the desert. The red, flashing winter storm warning scrolled the bottom of the tv screen.
Desert meteorologists make a big deal about WINTER STORM WARNING 2009, 2010, etc.
When you live in the desert, but grew up in the midwest, this is hilarious. We panicked though. We bundled up, affixed our headlamps and spent the next hour in the dark, rescuing lemons.
I sobbed over our dear and lovely lemon tree that March.
Less than two months later, the lemon tree had survived. He almost seemed happier and healthier
than before. I miss our tree. I miss spending a full afternoon juicing all the lemons that were left after months of using this fruit in my daily cooking. I miss making people smile when I would bring them bags of lemons.
I miss having fresh lemons in my green bowl on the kitchen table. I miss the blossoms' potent smell in the spring and the hum of bees attending to the tree.
I haven't experienced all seasons in the new city. I don't know yet what I would miss in our new surroundings.
I just know that even in winter, the lemon tree was green and vibrant.
* * * * *
On Friday, a few minutes before we left to visit my Grandpa, our mail lady, Paula, delivered a package
from AZ. I brought it in the old house and set it on the kitchen counter. I could smell what was inside.
I opened it; it was a box of lemons.
The tree is beautiful and faithfully produces. In 2011 we had several harsh, winter freezes- not something we are used to in the desert. The red, flashing winter storm warning scrolled the bottom of the tv screen.
Desert meteorologists make a big deal about WINTER STORM WARNING 2009, 2010, etc.
When you live in the desert, but grew up in the midwest, this is hilarious. We panicked though. We bundled up, affixed our headlamps and spent the next hour in the dark, rescuing lemons.
I sobbed over our dear and lovely lemon tree that March.
 |
| - march 2011 - |
 |
| - april 2011 - |
than before. I miss our tree. I miss spending a full afternoon juicing all the lemons that were left after months of using this fruit in my daily cooking. I miss making people smile when I would bring them bags of lemons.
I miss having fresh lemons in my green bowl on the kitchen table. I miss the blossoms' potent smell in the spring and the hum of bees attending to the tree.
I haven't experienced all seasons in the new city. I don't know yet what I would miss in our new surroundings.
I just know that even in winter, the lemon tree was green and vibrant.
* * * * *
On Friday, a few minutes before we left to visit my Grandpa, our mail lady, Paula, delivered a package
from AZ. I brought it in the old house and set it on the kitchen counter. I could smell what was inside.
I opened it; it was a box of lemons.
 |
| - july 2012 - the month we moved - |
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