When Life Gives You a Lemon Tree

 

Several years ago, I discovered that I had an odd interest in growing peppers.  Not just any peppers, rare and hot peppers.  My deck often looked like a small jungle of Habanero, Black Hungarian (the purple flowers are beautiful), Chili, Jalapeno, and sometimes a random seed from a random collection.  You get the picture.

In that process I discovered an interest in germinating seeds and decided to practice a few techniques such as one for lemons and it was very simple.   I took a generic lemon from the local grocery store and popped out a few seeds.   I let the seeds dry for a few days and then I had 5 decent little seeds.  

The trick was to pick off the outer husk ever so gently and then lay them between two small pieces of paper towel. Once between simply add some water and a small drop of hydrogen peroxide for fungus control and some other horticultural jibber-jabber reason.   Then take that paper and seed Quesadilla and slide it into a sandwich bag, remove the air, seal it, and then place it somewhere dark and cool like the back of a cupboard you rarely open.  Then give it some time.

Like most men on the planet, what did I do next?  I forgot.  I forgot until one day my son was eating a Caesar Salad and I remembered that I had seeds in my cupboard that were probably fighting for life.   I suspect it was about 7 weeks later but about on schedule for a check.   When I held the bag up to the light, I could see through the translucent wet paper that one of the seeds had sprouted!   The others did not but I had a fighter on my hands.  Life.

I took that single seed and placed it in a small pot with some general-purpose soil and a little water-soluble fertilizer.  I then, again left it alone and placed it on my south-facing window sill, but behind the couch where I, again, forgot.  I forgot until one day I was looking out over the couch and saw my little baby tree.   

So far two lessons can be ascertained.  First, you must start something but give it space to do what it does naturally.  Second, keep it safe and in the right conditions for growth.  That seed and baby tree did not require my intervention to do its thing.  It just needed opportunity.

I can stop right here and talk about youth development, or development in any regard.  Start, set the conditions, and remove barriers.   But there is more that this tree has taught me.

Over the years, the tree grew and grew and was always a conversation piece.  Look at my lemon tree.  In Newfoundland.  Like I did some Harry Potter magic as I had nothing to do with its growth, I just provided opportunity.

I did notice that each winter, during low light and stressful times, the tree struggled.   It lost most of its leaves but continued in what little natural light was available.   Note that I tried growing lights but for some reason that tree never really responded to it.  It seemed to need natural light not artificial light.  You may see another analogy there, but I’ll skip it yet.

Each spring and summer it grew and this year was about a meter tall with slapdash branch trajectory as it tried to figure out the light.

Last year, I had a flood in my house which required that I relocate to a temp home and my girlfriend, Laura, hosted Lemony in her porch and it continued to grow with just a little water and her attention and periodic conversation with it.. 

The house get repaired and Lemony comes back and sat in my window again.   But this year its success and growth seemed to have met its peak and I somewhat understood that the growth may have hit a point that there is not enough light for the photosynthesis for the mass of the tree.   So I did what I tend to do (another story) and I began to prune this tree and decided that I could help it along and in my defense, pruning is often a valuable technique – but I’m no expert and just started hacking away at what I thought were things needing my intervention.   Maybe it needed some, but my efforts seemed to be excessive as the few leaves that remained simply fell and left me with a tree that looked like the WWI tree in no mans land in France.  Busted. Cracked. Leafless. A skeleton of flora. 

I was sure that I killed it.  I felt so bad after those many years of bringing the right conditions and opportunity that my action seemed to have had the opposite effect so I kept it in the window – but most importantly – I did not throw it out because it looked bad or seemed dead.   I let it be and returned to just giving it safety and opportunity.

This morning, I peered over at the tree that was obscured by my loveseat and what did I see?   Life.  That tree was not finished but all I had to do was stop interfering in its growth.   I had a small sprout on a branch but at the trunk root was a new strong branch reaching for that light.

You see, I have had a difficult personal journey for the last decades and I have spent most of my time developing skills that may have had opposite effect to the intention.   I would obsess over personal risk and anxiety and prevent things that were not yet, or ever to be, manifested.  The tree reminds me that it only required my attention to let it develop.  It did not require my action. Sure, on occasion I would move it somewhere better or put it a safe place following a flood (remember I needed help with that one), but overall it was fine, despite the stressed times until I decided to take action.  Life will continue until it does not.  It only ends quicker when we interfere – even with good intention.

To apply this analogy to a personal story, I had treated my relationship a little like that tree. I may have tried to use my poorly learned skills (again a story for another time) to simply manage the stressor and trim and control it to try and help.   In that, damage was done and I was sure it was dead.  Two important things happened.   First I stopped trying to actively fix something that has proven over and over that it will grow on its own with simple attention and opportunity.   Second, and most importantly, I did not throw it out.   The tree decided to respond and grow on its own and, while it won’t look like the tree it started out as but its just as beautiful and important as that sprout in the Ziploc bag that was given a chance.

I don’t think I can tell people how important it is to have faith in life and growth.  We need not protect too much from hazard actual or perceived.  I take my personal analogy and look at it this way.  Will it recover from my damage after years of success?  Quite possibly.  What do I need to provide? Not much.  Attention and opportunity.  If it continues to grow, I will welcome it and never handle the tree the same ever again.

I love my tree, no matter how it looks.  Its strong.  It always has been.