The Fragrance of Lemons for Sarah Colquhoun I loved the Meyer lemon tree planted by my neighbour friend, a pretty woman, vivacious and kind. She’d squeezed it into a space between her cobbled path and the old brick wall. It only began to bear good crops after Laura had moved away: I missed our frequent talks at the gate. A series of owners came and went as the tree began to reach for the sun. I learned too late that Laura had died but our blue connecting gate remained and sometimes I pilfered fallen fruit: the lemons…
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