Seeing the obvious...
 

The garden that I'm working on these days is new to me, so I'm still
trying to figure out all of the various plants that I've 'inherited'.

This afternoon, I was poking about, trying to figure out what this
shrubby tree could be. Leaves light green (or yellow, not good) and
shiny, reminds me a bit of the shape of gardenias... light grey bark,
interesting red leaf buds...

....muttering away, until I took a step back, and realized that there
were three lemons hanging cheerfully off of on branch, just above
eye level.

Now to find the right food for said lemon, prop it up a bit, and get it
back into health ;

cheers!
--
================================================== ========================
"A cat spends her life conflicted between a deep, passionate and profound
desire for fish and an equally deep, passionate and profound desire to
avoid getting wet. This is the defining metaphor of my life right now."

Seeing the obvious...
 

In Cat wrote:
The garden that I'm working on these days is new to me, so I'm still
trying to figure out all of the various plants that I've 'inherited'.

This afternoon, I was poking about, trying to figure out what this
shrubby tree could be. Leaves light green (or yellow, not good) and
shiny, reminds me a bit of the shape of gardenias... light grey bark,
interesting red leaf buds...

....muttering away, until I took a step back, and realized that there
were three lemons hanging cheerfully off of on branch, just above
eye level.

Now to find the right food for said lemon, prop it up a bit, and get
it back into health ;

I found a tree like that in the woods, with some round yellow fruits on
it. I took some to a family get-together to see if anybody could ID them,
and they turned out to be lemons. This was surprising, considering this
was in the Smoky mountains, hundreds of miles farther north than any
lemon should be able to grow. I've got my fingers crossed trying to
sprout some seeds now.

Sean Quinn

Seeing the obvious...
 

This reminds me of one I saw growing on an upscale Delaware property. It was
a large woody shrub or small tree, typical citrus-like foliage, lots of
hellacious thorns on it, and several lemons that were hard and didn't smell
like the common edible ones, although did smell sorta citrusy. I never did
find out what species it was, but it sure made a formidable barrier.

wrote in message
...

I found a tree like that in the woods, with some round yellow fruits on
it. I took some to a family get-together to see if anybody could ID them,
and they turned out to be lemons. This was surprising, considering this
was in the Smoky mountains, hundreds of miles farther north than any
lemon should be able to grow. I've got my fingers crossed trying to
sprout some seeds now.

Sean Quinn

Seeing the obvious...
 

It was a large woody shrub or small tree, typical citrus-like foliage, lots
of hellacious thorns on it, and several lemons that were hard and didn't smell
like the common edible ones, although did smell sorta citrusy.

You are describing Poncirus trifoliata. It is sometimes used as a rootstock to
improve the hardiness of citrus trees. Its fruit is not edible. There is a
cultivar called 'Flying Dragon' which is sold for ornament & occasionally used
for bonsai.
Iris,
Central NY, Zone 5a, Sunset Zone 40
"If we see light at the end of the tunnel, It's the light of the oncoming
train."
Robert Lowell (1917-1977)

Seeing the obvious...
 

Thanks, I was curious for a long time!

"Iris Cohen" wrote in message
...
It was a large woody shrub or small tree, typical citrus-like foliage,
lots
of hellacious thorns on it, and several lemons that were hard and didn't
smell
like the common edible ones, although did smell sorta citrusy.

You are describing Poncirus trifoliata. It is sometimes used as a
rootstock to
improve the hardiness of citrus trees. Its fruit is not edible. There is a
cultivar called 'Flying Dragon' which is sold for ornament & occasionally
used
for bonsai.
Iris,
Central NY, Zone 5a, Sunset Zone 40
"If we see light at the end of the tunnel, It's the light of the oncoming
train."
Robert Lowell (1917-1977)