In our determination to have a slice of lemon in my G&T and a slice of lime in Hubby the Un-Gardeners Corona beer, we have once again risked the lives of some poor unsuspecting citrus trees.
There they were at the garden centre, minding their own business hanging out with the other lemons and limes, sharing all their hopes and dreams for their future with the mandarins and grapefruit. They hoped that they would end up in a richly fertile, dry, nicely landscaped suburban garden where they would be positively doted upon.
Cue, spooky music. Sweeping up and down the aisles of the garden centre with my extra-large trolley I descend upon the citrus aisle… Domm domm domm….. The trees start shaking in their pots. The little ones soon breathe a sigh of relief when they realise that we aren’t after them. They are too small. We are impatient and can’t wait that long. If we hadn’t killed the first one, it should have been at full maturity by now, putting out loads of lovely lemons, but alas no. The little ones are safe.
The big ones are also safe. While desperate for a lemon tree, not $60 desperate. So I turn to the rack with all the mid-sized citrus and rifle through the rack looking for the tallest, healthiest and strongest shrubs. The smell of the citrus blossom was overwhelmingly heavenly, increasing my determination to possess the creator of such an amazing fragrance.
Soon I had selected our next victims and popped them into the trolley and whisked them off to the checkout and certain doom.
Come again soon – winter is being unseasonably warm and so I can get loads of stuff done.
Sarah the Gardener : o )