It is winter in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. The smell of this lemon when I scratched the peel was remarkable. There were a few sweet smelling blossoms down at the base of this rather neglected plant. What fragrance when I picked one. I have a lemon tree in a pot at home and someone is coming in twice a week to check on my house, be sure the alarm is working and water my little lemon tree and my other plants. They sit patiently in my kitchen waiting for our few months of intense, hot and humid summer.
The plants you see live on a terrace on a little street in the town. If it gets chilly at night in ” winter” at least they have almost constant sunshine during the day. How extreme our climate is in Montreal. When I took a taxi to the airport on Tuesday morning at the ungodly hour of 4 am, a bitter wind shrieked a spiteful goodbye. Our climate in my beloved hometown is so hostile that it affects our freedom to stroll around the streets as I did today in San Miguel. There is no struggle here to overcome snow, ice, fatigue from trudging through slushy streets.
I know I’m in my honeymoon period now. This town that is full of artists and writers has a sort of magic atmosphere. There is a house in this town that is for sale. My prudent self tells me to be careful. After all, I love my hometown and write poems about it. I love people who live in my hometown. Only trouble is, I write poems about San Miguel too. Love, stay away from me so I don’t do something rash!