A little over three years ago, Kate (daughter No 1) gave me a grafted lime tree for my birthday.
Without planting it in the ground, it has been a labour of love trying to keep it alive, let alone trying to get it to bear fruit.
I have had to neaten unwanted growth from the rootstock, it has been eaten almost to non-existence by bugs, and then, just as it was recovering, showing precious signs of life, it was beaten half to death by hail.
Seriously I almost gave up and admitted defeat. I thought I’d have to say my farewells to what was to be my own supply of bittersweet, zesty (ok, sour), little citrus delights.
But never fear. The tree – obviously a little fighter – has survived all those horrible things thrown its way and finally started bearing fruit.
So it only took three years, but I have harvested a grand total of . . .
. . . wait for it . . .
And after picking it yesterday afternoon I wasted no time in sampling a little pop of homegrown goodness squeezing half of it across our breakfast this morning.
With another two limes on my little tree, and a few flowers emerging, I am looking forward to some more bittersweet, zesty, little citrus delights from my own garden.
If I get enough, I may have to make Dean a Lime Cheesecake. (He’d like that.)