Te Radar's Rant: Lemons 101

It's not life that gives you lemons, it's a weakness for garden centre bargains. Photo / Getty Images

Lemonade, illumination, scurvy avoidance, bribery – there’s a myriad of ways to use a lemon.

Entertainment: Life has given me lemons. It's my own fault really. I simply can't resist any tree at a garden centre whose label states: "small and vigorous fruiting". Add "low maintenance" to that and there is every chance I'll be heaving that tree into the back of my car. Unless it's a feijoa. I have no desire to propagate the feijoa. Still, rather a feijoa than a fig. Or yet another lemon.

I have no need of those fruits in my dwarf-chard. My mini plantation comprises nine varieties of dwarf fruit tree. It's the perfect backyard forest. The trees remain reasonably small, yet wonderfully bountiful. Often too bountiful. Especially when it comes to lemons.

I can't even give my excess lemons away. Almost everyone in my neighborhood has their own scruffy tree. Clearly there was a time when people simultaneously sought to colonise their lawns with something productive, and decided a single lemon tree would do.

There are only so many uses I have for lemons. Mostly they involve flavouring cool beverages to hydrate me on these hot summer days. I could use the excess lemons to polish furniture, sterilise chopping boards, add highlights to my hair, remove any warts or corns I may develop, or soothe sunburn, but I don't. Nor am I interested in candied peel or lemon curd.

I have, however, in a moment of scientific enthusiasm, wired several of them together in order to power a tiny LED light. While the lemons did dimly light the light, the only thing it illuminated was my realisation that while this was a wonder of science and nature, it was of little practical use. Lemons can create electricity but certainly not enough to warrant massive banks of surplus citrus wired into the main grid. A great shame.

When not attempting to electrocute myself with lemons I spend an inordinate amount of time simply staring at my prolific dwarf lemon tree and thinking that if these tiny bountiful plants had been compulsory on ships then countless people could have been spared a miserable death through the rigours of scurvy.

Between the years 1500 to 1800, estimates suggest that scurvy killed at least two million sailors, more than all of the naval battles, shipwrecks and other diseases of the period combined. All for the want of a lemon.

Symptoms of scurvy included lethargy and an intense longing for home. I'm not surprised. If I were stuck on a ship in the middle of the ocean, with my gums rotting and my teeth falling out, I'd prefer to be safely ensconced at home as well.

That way I would be safe from scurvy, and able to tend to my small range of small trees. For the prolifically budding mini orchardist it's a wonder to see the range available. You can even procure single trees with grafts of several varieties of the fruits all happily spliced onto one trunk in a delightful Frankenfruit tree.

What could be better for those with limited space and the desire to grow their own fruit? If you plant them in pots you can even take your orchard with you when you move. Of course you'll have to figure out how you will lift the hefty pots onto the hire trailer. Perhaps bribe a friend with some lemons?

You may never be able to string your hammock between them, and they might not make great trees for climbing, but the dwarf trees make a great addition to backyards or berms. And as life delivers its many lemons it might just pay you to figure out a healthy recipe for lemonade.

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