There used to be a very sturdy lemon tree in our backyard. Our happy home has been privy to a one time tar pit and SuperRoses in the front yard, but the lemon tree was in the back. It grew next to Ex Roomie Cackle’s bedroom, and when it was Fourth Of July we’d climb it to the roof and watch the fireworks happening all around Los Angeles, from Dodger Stadium to Downtown to Santa Monica.
One day the sturdy lemon tree up and died on us. We didn’t do anything, it just happened. The gardeners came and cut it down and the only thing left was a gnarly twisted rooty stump, and we couldn’t climb up to the roof to watch any fireworks ever again.
But the sturdy lemon tree was not to be denied. And somewhere around a year and a half ago, it came back up, a scant two feet away from where it used to be. It’s a very determined lemon tree, you see. Nothing is going to stop it.
It grows so many lemons that I can’t use them all, and the branches are all weighed down. I pawn them off on friends, I make as many lemon icebox pies as I can (another one is coming this weekend.) Roomie Jeykll uses them in her Diet Coke, I had a get together with Basil, Ginger Puppy, and a bunch of my friends where we made lemon drop martinis with great success. I use them by the sink sometimes for my hands after cleaning, one time I got really resourceful and made literal lemonade.
I’m doing everything I can to help that poor lemon tree, and I still can’t get to them all. Fruit is rotting on that tree because I haven’t used it yet.
I hope the tree isn’t a metaphor for my future. Sometimes, I worry that it is. But I really really hope not.
Back to culling the opportunities. Before they rot.