Eating From the Ground Up

Joey gave me a lemon tree for my last birthday. It went right into the kitchen next to the sunniest window, and ever since then I’ve been feeding it, singing to it, and showing it off to guests like a proud parent. My reward was an explosion of blooms that released a smell so sweet and full of life as to make me drunk enough to sit down when it filled the kitchen. Those flowers turned to lemons, and, confused as they may have been by cloudy and frigid New England, they still slowly changed from dark green to marbled green and yellow until finally yellowish orange. The whole time, I was sure I would fail the tree. I’d put my fingers into earth of the pot and curse myself for its over-dry or wetness. I started saying things like “Close the door! It’s too drafty for the tree!” I worried that the lemons would get knocked off their branches or plucked by one of the many curious toddlers who come through. I obsessed over the tree as much as I loved it. Continue reading →