Life with a twist of homegrown lime and stolen oranges

There's nothing like relaxing in front of the football with a bottle of beer... if you like football and beer that is.  
And I don't particularly, well not beer.
Generally I'm more of a wine or cocktail or "anything but beer," sort of person.
But last week was different.
Last week I couldn't wait to hear the gentle hiss of a bottle of Corona being opened.
Not because Corona reminds me of Summer ( although it does ) or because I like the taste ( although as beers go, it's my favourite ).
The reason I was so excited was the slice of lime that goes with it.
Because the lime I was slicing, wasn't just any old lime.
A moment before I squeezed it into the neck of the bottle, I had plucked it from our very own  lime tree. 

Study of a lime in front of a chair

It was the very first lime that  had ever grown in our not very exotic South East England garden ( now over-wintering in our not very tidy South East England house ).
And Corona has never tasted so good- the green, tangy lime, the cool, golden  beer.... but mostly just the green, tangy lime.
We had friends over so I forced each of them to inhale its fresh, fruity scent.
" Amazing," they agreed, turning briefly away from the football ( England v Poland ),
 " smells just like a real one. What's the score?"
I tried explaining that it was much more " real," than any old shop bought lime.
But England had just scored a goal. 
So I turned back to the kitchen, opened another bottle of Corona, sliced gently through the deep green, waxy skin and squeezed another piece of lime into the bottle.

In truth, I don't just have a lime tree.  I have a lemon tree and an orange tree as well. But so far, the limes are my only success. 
Every day I check and there are tiny oranges and lemons growing on the other two trees, but somehow they never quite make it beyond the " very tiny," stage before withering and falling off. 
But I won't give up.
Growing things takes time and skill and experience. 
Just like people, you have to get to know the likes and dislikes of the plants you are tending.
And I am a patient gardener!
Ever since we lived in California, I have dreamed of bringing the scent of orange blossom to our garden. 
When I first brought the plants home, the little orange tree was in full bloom. Its  blossom iridescently white against the orange bricks of our house, its deep, sweet scent drifting through the open back door into every room.
" How come it smells like Thailand?" asked Joss, so impressed that he even made it out of his bedroom.
He had the scent confused with the smell of Jasmine that filled the air when we were on holiday in Thailand.
But that is the thing about scents and smells, they immediately evoke a memory.
When we lived in California, we had an old convertible Mustang.  
Every day I would put the top down and drive to work through miles of orange groves.
In spring, the fierce, sweet scent of orange blossom filled the warm air, intoxicating and beautiful.
A scent that lingered with me throughout the long day- which was lucky considering the number of nappies I had to change.
Perhaps, if I work at it, it is a scent that will fill the memories of Mia and Joss, reminding them  of teenage evenings spent sitting in the garden, instead of in front of the TV.
At least I can dream!
And for this year , I will content myself with the scent of orange blossom in the Spring and tangy limes in my beer at the end of the Summer.
Perhaps next year all my loving labour will bear more fruit!

When I was young and romantic, my pockets were always full of mouldy oranges because of this poem.
And even though today my pockets are mostly orange-free, there are days when I long to reach out for an orange and inhale.

THE STOLEN ORANGE 

When I went out I stole an orange
I kept it in my pocket
It felt like a warm planet

Everywhere I went smelt of oranges
Whenever I got into an awkward situation
I`d take the orange out and smell it

And immediately on even dead branches i saw
The lovely and fierce orange blossom
That smells so much of joy

When I went out I stole an orange
It was a safeguard against imagining
there was nothing bright or special in the world

Brian Patten