Planting the Limon Tree

A couple of years ago Barry and I bought some small lemon and lime trees that we kept in decorative pots in the backyard.  Most of them died, though, in a hard freeze last winter.  Barry (who did most of their watering and upkeep) was sure the one that lived was a lime.

When we put the house up for sale last spring, the stager told us to get rid of the survivor because it registered as "clutter."  I took it with me to my parents' house and then to my new place.  The poor tree originally had five fruits this year, but by the time it arrived here only one was left.  I had no clue when it would be ready to harvest, so I just left the tree in its pot on the barbeque pad out back and ignored it between waterings.

Lo and behold, about a month ago the "lime" at the top of the tree suddenly turned bright yellow.  Apparently my tree was one of our lemon trees rather than one of the limes - which is fine, because I don't think any of my established trees is a lemon (although the mystery tree could surprise me yet).

My father thinks this is really funny and has been referring to it as the "limon tree."  That's OK, though, since today he helped me plant it.  This was more work than it sounds like because (1) the soil here is caliche, which is a real bugger to excavate, and (2) we had to extend the in-ground sprinkler system to reach the tree's new location.  The whole project took us about three hours and two trips to Ace Hardware, but it's done and the tree is much less likely to suffer damage if we have a bad freeze this winter.

Of course, this still leaves me without a lime tree, which I really wanted.  The big question - can I convince Dad to help me plant another one?  And if I can't, will it take six hours to do by myself?


“When life gives you lemons, squirt someone in the eye.”  ~Cathy Guisewite