'Very pretty'

My neighbor Las is miffed at the weather. He keeps tropical trees in his garage over the winter to protect them from killing cold. Now it's April and he'd like to roll out the wooden tubs with his ficus, and especially his lemon tree. He's afraid that if he delays, the strengthening sun will burn unprotected juvenile leaves, and kick the whole process back to the beginning.. How much later in the summer, then, will the mature glossy leaves appear, and the thick fragrance of the blossoms, and the pendulous yellow citrus fruit?

And yet, he says, it's still too cold, at least too iffy. Las knows all about this. Botany is all about location, and he's been cultivating his for years. His garden is a paradise of showy flowers and exotic plants, many of which he generously shares. My wisteria, due to bloom this year, was from him. He's been through refoliation once before, and what he wants is to get his plants out now to prevent it again.

Las is a generous man to everyone. As host, Las treats this lemon tree tenderly, watches out for its well-being. We might be moved to say 'lemon trees are for the tropics; leave them there. ' But the same can be said of many of us. What are tropical people, for instance, doing in (this winter) subarctic New England. What is anyone's natural place? And especially, what is our natural place when there's someone is willing to watch out for us? There may be lemon-tree spirits among us who just need a little protection at times from the cold and the sun, the exigencies of a particular situation, but who respond with rich color, redolent fragrance and sharp flavor--the gift to us of pure zestfulness.

Making a home for something, beyond even making space for something, opens doors to often unsuspected possibilities. Las, the lemon, and I all say to Spring: come! come!