A week or six or quite possibly more ago, when I was actually paying quite a lot of attention to my tools and timber scraps quite possibly to the detriment of bits of the garden rather than the converse, which is the case at the moment, I lashed out in a fit of pre-viral fever, and bought a lemon tree at considerable expense.
Whether because of some kind of addictive behaviour, or guilt, or whether it's just sensible to visit to one's personal den of iniquity under cloak of darkness is not a question to be answered here, but I do like to undertake my shopping in the giant hardware store when no one else is around. Therefore when I arrived home laden with my lemon tree along with various interesting smelling chemicals, nails, string and sandpaper it was far too late to begin digging holes in the back yard without raising serious concerns from neighbours.
The lemon was carefully placed in the spot that would be its final resting place, and forgotten by a mind clogged with wood dust and consumed at the time with thoughts of mitre joints and router grooves.
At the time we were enjoying what we thought was the last gasp of summer. Sadly it turned out that the gasp wasn't that of summer, but of the forgotten and completely neglected lemon tree which had gone into survival mode in its heat absorbing black pot, dropping two thirds of its foliage and desperately doing all that it could to avoid turning up its toes entirely. After a good deal of remedial care, it was planted and has been cosseted ever since at the expense of all other projects.
It's responded by growing, and flowering, and our little bees are loving it.
It may be too early to make an announcement, after all it's early days and anything can go wrong, but … we think we're going to have a lemon!
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