I sometimes find a house with a lemon tree and it always feels special, like the one I found recently. I have come to know that lemon trees are something to admire here in these mountains. Often a tree is revealed as a barn door is opened, such a surprise always to find it sheltering there.
Usually they are planted in a large pot or half a barrel and live on top of a make-shift trolley that is wheeled inside and out depending on the weather. Outside when warm, inside when not, especially during the winter or at the first hint of a chill. Sometimes on a bright autumn day the lemon tree might be taken outside to soak up the sun, perhaps with a blanket around its roots, then pushed back inside before the sun dips over the peaks.
The effort to produce a basket of lemons in the Sibillini Mountains far outweighs the cost of buying those shipped from the south. But knowing a lemon tree is growing in your barn while the snow falls on your roof must be one of the sweetest feelings in the world.
