This old lemon tree and her heavy ripe lemons, harvest ready, hanging so plentiful down from the branches, atop the rich soil, amongst the humming of bees, were a gathering of nature's art; she pulled me below her branches just as the strong scent of citrus lulls those bees to her flowers. Under there, grasping at lemons, oh how I longed to be young again; to be small, not grown. I would make this shaded small tree my playhouse, my home in the out of the doors. In the heat and quiet of the afternoon, I would place an old blanket there, and drag my dollies and my old stuffed Paddington bear out from the house, where all would be invited to tea: the dollies, Paddington, the bees and me. Tea time beneath the scrubbed crisp scent of those lemons. We would laze under the tree, spend hours there, out amongst the bees and the white flowers. There I would learn the language of bees, the secrets of their pollen and the honeyed home of their hive. Never to be stung by a single one, I would watch them as they danced in and out of the flowers and the lemons, feel them humming across my baby blond hair. I would learn to hold them on my hand; and they would listen to me as they listened to their queen. Me, Rebecca, Royal Princess of Meyer Lemons and their Flowers; Heiress to the Kingdom of Bees. The scent of the flowered fruit and slow decay of the tart lemons would stain my skin, and as I became older, the scent would always linger, never allowing itself to be scrubbed out. Oh to be young again, small, not grown, sitting at the foot of nature, blessed by the yellowed gifted fruit of this tree.
So I scooped up as many as I felt right and brought them home, still slightly intoxicated by their scent, their promise, their beauty, their art. I have yet to decide what to do with them. Perhaps something like as beautiful as my friend has done. I want to preserve their beauty a little longer.
Nature In The Home with Lou at a LittleGreenShed.