Limewatch

One year Shaun bought me a lime tree for Christmas. Not last Christmas, not the one before ... I can hardly even remember when it was. I know we were in our previous house, so I'd say it was seven Christmases ago.

When he gave me it I was delighted. It was exactly the present I'd asked for. I looked after it, expecting it to repay me with bountiful fruit.

Nada. Nothin'

At this point I should state that I am not the best citrus-tree owner. I would like to be, it's just that I forget it's there. And therefore the poor thing goes unwatered for weeks at a stretch.

I'd pretty much given up on our lime tree actually producing fruit until last year. A wet summer meant, lo and behold, A LIME!

One. Little. Lime.

We stroked it and nurtured it and eventually when it reached about the size of a cumquat, we picked it.

We cut it open: it was virtually juiceless. Still, this was a victory. We had produced a lime.

This year, however, things are much improved. Oh yes.




We have many, many little limes.

The secret to our success?

My son is toilet training. So where do I deposit the wees that go in his potty? Said lime tree.
It's working a treat.