My lemon tree

Winters are increasingly hard for me. And it's not because I'm soft. I lived in a dry cabin in Fairbanks, Alaska while in college. It's brutal. Your eyelashes can freeze and break off. Your breath turns to ice crystals in front of your face. You can die. I also lived on the coast of Maine for many winters. It's not as brutal as Fairbanks, but it's lonely and dark. I think that's it really. It's lonely and cold and dark. And I don't cope with those things as well as I once did. 

I have a lemon tree in my kitchen. I brought it to Virginia in the back of the U-Haul from Texas. I wasn't sure it was going to make it, but it did. And we have lemons -- about a dozen of them -- every winter. But by this time of year, I start feeling really worried about my tree. It's been cooped up in the house for months and isn't getting the warmth or the light it needs. It's leaves are looking thin and papery and it's looking a lot like it's dying. The lemons are brightening and getting larger, but I fear that will be the end. But each year, I carry it back outside when the weather has stabilized and it begins growing again. 

Maybe I need to find somewhere where we can both be in the sun more. Where we can both find more warmth and light. 

(Posted Mar 1st, 2024)