Last Monday, my mum gave me two shopping bags filled with home grown lemons.
They sat on my kitchen bench for a week.
We had a beautiful lemon tree at our old place and I too used to give away bag loads of fruit.
Our lemon tree is one of the things I miss most about my old house.
We grew it from a small pot that my father gave me for my bridal shower, into a plentiful, lively tree.
We loved that tree.
This time of year, when I dig out my electric juicer, my thoughts always drift to my Grandmothers. Between them, they had sixteen children, each one hand-reared, in their respective villages, in Greece.
They lived simply, ate meat rarely and they made food using grains.
Compared to my standards, they lived very inconvenient lives.
No IGA up the road, no takeaway for those busy afternoons and hardly any refrigeration.
Everything needed was made by hand. Every day.
With purpose. Without waste.
So as I juiced my lemons today, quickly and conveniently, I thought about my Grandmothers at my age, juicing their lemons by hand.
I thought about them as young wives; hand washing woollen blankets, pressing clothes and rearing so many children.
What did they think about?
Did they curse the never ending fucking housework when the citrus stung their cuticles?
The more we want, the more we want.
Some days, the thought of having so much stuff makes me sick.
I’d love to live more simply.
Do you think if we did more by hand, we would want less?
My grandmothers passed away aged 96 and 103.
There’s definitely something to be said about the Mediterranean lifestyle.
Linking up today with Essentially Jess for #IBOT.
Did you know that I was April’s Blogger of the Mo?
Yep! I was…