I'm always invigorated in the days following Christmas. The hustle and bustle of the holiday is over, the new year is just around the bend, and there's no mistaking that winter is upon us. It's the time of year when I finally have time to take a deep breath, relax, and enjoy my surroundings. Even though there's not much to enjoy outside in the garden right now, there's always something going on in the greenhouse--and since Winter is "Citrus Season", I like to use this time to pay a visit to my own private little citrus grove.
Okay, I do realize that compared to the massive tropical citrus complexes found in sunny Florida and California, calling my little trio of containers a "grove" might be a bit of a stretch. But just humor me. As far as I'm concerned, when you get two orange trees and one lemon tree together, you've got yourself a grove. I don't care where it happens.
Most folks will tell you that citrus trees thrive in a tropical climate full of sun, sand, and balmy weather. Most folks would also agree that my small homestead, hunkered down at the edge of the Ozark Mountains and built to withstand yearly temperature swings ranging from -17F to 112F, doesn't quite fit that description. However, I've never been one to let reality ruin my fun.
I've been cultivating these trees for a few years now, and so far I've managed to not only keep them alive, but this past summer, I actually coaxed one of them into doing this...
Most folks will tell you that citrus trees thrive in a tropical climate full of sun, sand, and balmy weather. Most folks would also agree that my small homestead, hunkered down at the edge of the Ozark Mountains and built to withstand yearly temperature swings ranging from -17F to 112F, doesn't quite fit that description. However, I've never been one to let reality ruin my fun.
I've been cultivating these trees for a few years now, and so far I've managed to not only keep them alive, but this past summer, I actually coaxed one of them into doing this...
Believe it or not, those are lemon blossoms. And if I'm being truthful, which is always debatable, I really didn't have much to do with it. Here's why:
Summer temperatures in Missouri, heat and humidity combined, tend to mimic tropical conditions. This makes a perfect match for growing citrus, and my container grown trees henceforth love spending the summer months outdoors.
With the trees lounging by the pergola, soaking up the summer sun, and swaying in the sultry breeze, it was only natural for them to bloom. And bloom they did. The sweet aroma filled the air and quickly reeled me in. I became addicted to that heady scent, and I spent more time standing beneath the pergola sniffing the lemon blossoms this summer than I did tending to the vegetable patch. I'm easily distracted...I've come to accept that.
Summer temperatures in Missouri, heat and humidity combined, tend to mimic tropical conditions. This makes a perfect match for growing citrus, and my container grown trees henceforth love spending the summer months outdoors.
With the trees lounging by the pergola, soaking up the summer sun, and swaying in the sultry breeze, it was only natural for them to bloom. And bloom they did. The sweet aroma filled the air and quickly reeled me in. I became addicted to that heady scent, and I spent more time standing beneath the pergola sniffing the lemon blossoms this summer than I did tending to the vegetable patch. I'm easily distracted...I've come to accept that.
I've also accepted the fact that when the cooler weather rolls in later in the year, the citrus begins to shut down. That's when I know it's time to move these babies into the greenhouse, where the conditions are more amiable than the roller coaster of temps that are usually going on outside. If you didn't already know it, Missouri is not known for consistent weather...but the people here are lovely. Just saying.
Once inside the warm greenhouse, the trees continued their cycle. The blossoms withered and fell, and tiny little lemons began to form in their place. Cute, aren't they?
Those little green lemons grew and grew, and finally after what seemed like an eternity of being green (and my relentless lamenting on how maybe the tree was not actually a lemon, but a lime), one fruit suddenly turned yellow. Okay, yellowish-green. But believe me, a full grown, real live yellow lemon is on its way, and the world will be a better place. Just you wait.
But the ripening lemon isn't the only exciting thing happening in the grove. As we speak, the lemon tree continues to bloom, and the larger orange tree is budding out, blooming, and even forming fruit.
Like this baby orange I found nestled up to the window pane, basking in the winter sunlight.
Hmm. Basking in the winter sunlight sounds like a wonderful idea. I'm pretty sure that's how I'll be spending the rest of this year--lounging in the greenhouse, soaking up the bright rays of sunshine as they filter through those old window panes, and reveling in the intoxicating scent of glorious citrus blossoms. What a way to live! And what a way to say goodbye to days gone by, and embrace the days to come. It's a citrus celebration--of sorts.
Hmm. Basking in the winter sunlight sounds like a wonderful idea. I'm pretty sure that's how I'll be spending the rest of this year--lounging in the greenhouse, soaking up the bright rays of sunshine as they filter through those old window panes, and reveling in the intoxicating scent of glorious citrus blossoms. What a way to live! And what a way to say goodbye to days gone by, and embrace the days to come. It's a citrus celebration--of sorts.
So, here's to a fresh new year filled with as much zest as is the citrus fruit thriving in my grove!
I'll see you next year--until then, you know where to find me.
P.S. The door is always open. Hint, hint, my friends.
I'll see you next year--until then, you know where to find me.
P.S. The door is always open. Hint, hint, my friends.
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