Read by Matilda Longbottom

 

Sometimes life gives you lemons—or at least, you think it does. It all started with a little seed from the bottom of my morning teacup, a tiny pip I couldn’t bear to throw away. Without much thought, I set it on my kitchen windowsill to dry. From there, it found a home in a Styrofoam cup of dirt scratched from the sparse land around my little rental trailer in Louisiana.

This pip, which I affectionately named “Pip,” was my companion as I journeyed through life. Born on Oahu, I’d lived everywhere from Nashville to California before settling back in Louisiana, where my children planted their roots, and I stayed to be near my grandbabies. Pip thrived, sprouting and growing alongside me through every twist and turn.

By the time I purchased my little fixer-upper on Pandora Drive—a piece of paradise carved out of the Kisatchie National Forest—Pip had grown into a thriving sapling. I nestled it into the ground in front of my home, alongside gardens bursting with green beans, corn, and artichokes. Life was sweet, and I dreamed of the day Pip would yield lemons for my tea.

But, as my neighbors warned, patience is the price of growing citrus from seed. Twenty years passed, and Pip stretched tall and strong, its branches waving cheerfully in the Louisiana sun. Then one glorious Fall, I spotted them—tiny green buds, soon swelling into fruit the size of softballs.

The scent of citrus blossoms was divine, a perfume straight from Heaven. But when the fruit began turning a bright orange, I realized my “lemon” tree had pulled a fast one on me. Each fruit bore the telltale sign of a navel. My Pip was no lemon tree—it was a navel orange tree!

In that moment, I felt a kinship with Aunt Clara, the bumbling witch from “Bewitched” who always arrived slightly off course. I adopted her name with a smile, embracing life’s unexpected twists and turns.

Pip went on to bless us with an astonishing bounty of juicy, sweet oranges. Jars of marmalade lined my pantry shelves, fresh oranges graced our table, and bushels went out to family and friends.

Sure, I couldn’t afford a fancy, fruit-bearing citrus tree back when I planted Pip, but sometimes, life’s mislabels are the best gifts. My little tree wasn’t what I expected, but it was everything I needed—a reminder that patience, humor, and a little bit of stubbornness can turn even a lemon into a sweet orange surprise.

So, the next time life surprises you, channel your inner Aunt Clara and embrace it with a hearty “Ob-da-ob-da!” Just don’t steal my doorknobs on your way out.

Blessings still bloom on Pandora Drive, where every unexpected twist is an opportunity to grow. ❖

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About the Author: Mo Pascoe–Hoyal is a published writer, songwriter, avid gardener, and lifelong equestrian residing in Central Louisiana. Despite facing various challenges, including disabilities from multiple accidents, Mo remains an ardent advocate for growth and resilience. Inspired by the spirit of aloha and the beauty of nature, she continues to find solace and joy in the art of gardening.