Lemon Tree

When I moved to South Mississippi, I was intrigued by the citrus trees.  I'd never lived in a climate warm enough to support citrus.  Soon after beginning work at the library, the offerings started pouring in.  It seems that many people with satsuma trees, oranges, and tangerines often have more produce than they can absorb.  What better place is there to take that surplus than to the staff at the local library.  YUM!

Two years ago, thanks to another friend at the library I discovered Meyer Lemons.  Again, YUM!  The Meyer is a cross between a lemon and some type of orange, introduced to the U.S. in 1908.  So, it's been around awhile but it's fairly new to me.  A good Meyer lemon is much larger than a lemon bought at the grocery store, with a deep yellow color, and a beautiful tangy scent.

Last spring, I bought a Meyer Lemon tree.  It came with blossoms intact and many made it through it's transplant into my soil.  I spent the next several weeks anxiously watching to see if the blossoms would set, hopeful that I'd get some lemons in my first year of lemon tree ownership.  By the end of the season, I had eight lemons.  I'll admit they weren't the best specimens, a little small for Meyer Lemons, but the flavor, just right!

I spent about $35 on my tree.  I got eight lemons.  This means, that if you don't factor in my labor of watering, fertilizing, extra costs for the "good" soil I planted the tree in, and not to mention periodic checks for lemon growth those lemons were worth about $4.38 each.  Uhm... slightly higher than market value.  However, when you balance that price with the absolute joy of picking my own fruit, right outside in my own yard, knowing that after I planted the tree no chemicals were added to the growing mix of my lemons, I'm thrilled.  Of course in future years, provided conditions are right, the cost of my lemons should drop dramatically. 

This year, I was thrilled to use my own lemons for the lemon drink I made when my family celebrated an early Thanksgiving meal at my house last Saturday.  It's very fulfilling to have parts of the meal provided from the bounty of your own efforts.  The cornbread dressing was partially seasoned with lemon thyme I grew and the salad was picked in my own garden.  For me, this type of circular motion is very pleasing, to produce and consume products of my own labor.

Bonus offering of the day:

As I started writing about lemons, I couldn't get this song out of my head.  Enjoy.

Here in the southern United States, temperatures are just beginning to dip.  In fact, we had the first frosts last week but today it's comfortable in the 70's. 

Last week, the freezing temps sent me scurrying around to save the tomatoes and eggplant in the garden.  I don't think I'll be able to fend off the inevitable entrance of winter-like weather much longer but I've been successful so far.

The first evening that it was forecast to really dip into the thirties, I covered the things I could and harvested a few things that I couldn't.  

When Steak and Taters Guy and I sat down for dinner that evening at the dinner table which had one end obscured by greenery, he asked, with a marginally pained expression, "If that was a bushel of wheat?"  I answered, "It's the lemongrass I harvested so it wouldn't freeze.  Now I will dry it for tea."  Mr. Steak and Taters continued to eat his dinner with little comment about the lemongrass as exchanges such as these are very common at our house but often leave him as mystified as ever.



Stop by some weekend and we'll have a bit of organically grown lemongrass and mint tea.  I should have enough to share.