Orange Trees

I was about 12, when asked “Are you a carpenter or a farmer?”

No idea. Shrugged my shoulders. Neither. Ever. Thanks.

The question remained, but the answer changed - Did I want to carve and reduce? Or create and grow?

Lemons and oranges - supermarket staples - citric, vital and foreign.

Fresh white seeds, spat out with care - stored in an egg cup on the kitchen window sill.

Two weeks minimum to dry, relax and lie about - also the time they were forgotten about.

Three tin cans, fresh from the dishwasher, heading for recycling.

Three strong nails, to puncture holes in each - packed to the top with cold, wet compost.

Dotted round the house - bathroom, kitchen and snug too - with Goldilocks, sun, heat and water - then over to nature. Go.

Then woohoo. There you are. Result. Long straight shoot. Two green leaves. A symmetrical, tropical success.

A grower, not a cutter, so it seems, via a journey with an orange pip.