Bush Lemon Heist

One of my friends and I walk along a country road for exercise each week.  Which country road?  Cannot say.  Which friend?  Ditto.

My partner-in-crime and I espied these bush lemons growing wild and unloved in another person's paddock.  We have been watching them weekly and decided that this week they had to go.  We would rescue them and love them and they would not rot into the unappreciative ground, forgotten and alone, never to be enjoyed.  A bit much?  Yeah, well I am the Queen of Lemon Zest Waffle.  

We scanned the area for marauding farmers with pitch forks and cows/bulls with big horns and found them absent. We helped each other under the skin ripping barbed wire fence and proceeded to strip the tree of its produce.  What a haul eh?  We used my friend's jacket to carry them back to the lair (my kitchen) and voila!  I am in possession of more lemons than you can poke a stick at (or at least a sharp knife).

I have great plans for these stolen bush lemons.  One of them, and the most important of them, is to offer them to the Old Cheese so she can make her famous Lemon Meringue Pie.  MMMM!  It is the best in the world, THE WORLD, I tell you.

I grew a bush lemon tree once.  It died.  I fertilized it, nurtured it, mulched it with the best chook poo but it curled up its root system and carked it.  I think these trees grow best neglected and unloved.  Oh well, there is one down a certain country road that can be raided with my partner-in-crime when we walk there sometime in next year's season.