You remember that well-known law?

Yes, that one.

Been looking for a fruiting lemon tree for a while now - a long while,
to take twigs and byds from to graft on to the tree I grew from a pip -
I don't want to have to wait twenty or thirty years for it to fruit, I'd
be ninety or a hubdred before I could have a cup of gunpowder, innit.

So, last week Spalding Bulbs' catalogue droops into my letterbox (it was
damp on the day), and in it is - you've guessed - a lemon tree. TAAAW, a
solanum with melon-flavoured fruits (allegedly) and some more
blueberries.

So, not wishing to miss the opportunity of getting sundry freebies and a
chance of a cordless drill thrown in, I ordered a pile of things and
sent off the cheque.

Today in Naaaardge, on a florist and nurserywossnames stall was a whole
troop of lemon trees. With lemons. LOTS of lemons.

Hooter and Klaxon!

Foghorns!

Steam-whistles and air-raid sirens!

Sorry, that's a Sheddi progression...

So, I have a fecund lemming tree, and more goodies on their way - soon,
I hope.

And another lemming.

--
Rusty
Growing old is mandatory; growing up is optional.
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