On losing lemons and celebrating citrus

After weeks of trying to rescue a favourite lemon tree, I had to accept that it was not going to recover. We decided to remove the tree. It appears that there might have been a problem with the soil. This could have been caused by seepage from the canal, resulting in a swamping of the surrounding soil. We decided to remove the soil around the ailing lemon tree. We then disinfected the sides and bottom of the resulting hole and the bordering earth.  The removed soil I then used to repair some soil erosion damage at the municipal dump. Much to the delight of the resident manager.

Homemade Limoncello

We decided that life is too short to plant small trees. This meant collecting a well-grown replacement specimen from a nursery near the town of Tulbagh. Tulbagh is located about 130 km from Bonnievale, in a mountain basin known as “Het Land van Waveren”. The trip to the nursery provided for quite an adventure. Slowly, the landscape changed from green vineyards and orchards to freshly harvested wheat fields. The nursery itself too, held for a pleasant discovery. I was amazed by its size and the generous selection of garden plants. I had known it primarily as a tree nursery and had not expected such variety.

Tulbagh Nursery - garden plant section

I was briefly distracted by the selection of hydrangeas. I was contemplating where I could plant some in the Towerwater garden when a nursery employee asked if he could assist us. I was reminded why we were there and decided to focus on the task at hand.

A tempting hydrangea 

Their selection of citrus trees is quite extensive. Their larger trees under the shade netting was not quite the size for which I was hoping. After explaining my preference, the nurseryman’s face lit up. He explained that what we were looking for, was to be found in another section of the garden around the corner. We followed him, but after walking briskly for 15 minutes along a gravel road, I was starting to wonder if I should not have brought my bottle of water along.

Tulbagh Nursery - citrus selection

It was a hot day. Although most of the walk was in the shade, we could feel the 36° C in the still air.  Suddenly, we walked into a clearing. There before us was a forest of citrus and other trees. The sight of the trees made me wish that we had more space to plant more of them.

The baby lemon

I chose a Eureka lemon tree of 2.2 metres tall. The nurseryman looked impressed with my choice. He pointed to a tiny lemon fruit on the tree saying I would not regret my choice. At that point I was hoping that I didn’t get charged extra for a tree already ‘in fruit’.

Tulbagh Nursery - rose section

As we walked back to the office, the nurseryman conducted an animated discussion on Eureka and Lisbon lemons. I was enlightened on their rootstocks, pip and juice quantity and the size of their thorns.  We were happy with our choice of the Eureka lemon.

He used a tractor and trailer to fetch our lemon and brushed aside my concerns that the tree will not fit into our bakkie (pick-up). Apparently, I had just to leave everything to him, something I gladly did. I joined Keith in the rose section of the nursery where he was selecting roses to introduce into the rosarium. In the rosarium, two yellow roses particularly, were not performing and were up for replacement. The newly selected rose bushes were strong and healthy. Keith selected “Amber Queen” for the Floribunda and “Casanova” for the Hybrid Tea positions in the rosarium.

Our future lemons

With the lemon tree and two roses in the back of the bakkie, we decided to return home via an antique store in the neighbouring town of Ceres, located 21kms from Tulbagh. In no time, we had identified three pieces of furniture that could work in the Victorian cottage in Cape Town. The lemon tree- filled bakkie prevented the purchase and we decided to make another antique-buying trip later in the year, or early next year.

Back home at Towerwater, we immediately planted the roses and lemon tree. Suddenly it seemed as if we had never lost a lemon tree. The single lemon and a couple of blossoms on the new tree held good omens for marmalade making next year. 

After a hot day and vigorous gardening escapade, we could relax on the lawn at sunset with a Limoncello Martini. A special feature of the martini was that it was mixed with our own Limoncello. Limoncello that had been made with some of the last lemons provided by our sadly departed favourite lemon tree. We could celebrate the memory of the old lemon tree and the promises of the new, now freshly planted, for the Towerwater garden.

A garden where lemons grow

We have been blessed by a bountiful supply of lemons from the garden. The lemon tree is such a generous tree. Bearing fruit for most of the year, it supplies an important ingredient for most of our meals. From starters, soups and main courses, to desserts and cocktails, fresh organic lemon often features in each.

Lemons add or lift the flavours of any dish. Although covered in fruit, our lemon tree began looking very unhappy. Coincidently, we decided to transplant the strawberries to a new bed as where they had been growing alongside the lemon tree, they too were looking unhappy.

On lifting the strawberries, we soon discovered that most of the bed had become matted with the roots of a poplar tree flourishing in a neighbouring property. We transplanted the strawberries to a ‘safe’ bed. Recovering the original bed meant the removal of the invasive tree roots and applying a generous feeding of compost and organic chicken manure. It was decided to install a battery of eight large compost bins in the recovering bed. This, it is hoped, will further assist the natural recovery of the soil.

Removing the poplar roots from around the lemon tree proved more difficult. We decided to trench dig along the boundary and chop off all the invasive roots. The process of rescuing the lemon tree commenced with relieving the undernourished tree of all its many lemons. With a basket of lemons, the scene was set for some trusted lemon recipes. I decided to make pickled lemons. I enjoy using them in middle eastern dishes. My other ‘go-to’ recipe for lemons is Limoncello. This is a refreshing and much enjoyed summer aperitif.

While ‘Operation Lemon tree Rescue’ is in full swing, at least we will still have some reminders of its fruit. We take care not to waste any of the fruit. Both the peel and the whole fruit get used.   

On a very stormy weekend, I could push my concerns for our favourite lemon tree to the back of my mind as I relaxed in the big library chair reading my latest book acquisition, on lemon trees.

I miss going to bookshops and browsing for hours before deciding on which to buy. With hardly any bookshops left in central Cape Town, shopping for books has become a very one-dimensional online experience. All I have to go on to make an informed choice, is a picture and a description. Gone is that first meeting with the book on a bookshelf. Touching it, reading the introduction, looking at the chapters, and marveling at the images; and when you are completely seduced, taking it to the cashier where your book is placed in a paper bag ready to go home with you.

Online shopping is so impersonal. Furthermore, I don’t like surprises where books are concerned. When I came across the book ‘The land where lemons grow’ by Helen Attlee, online, I was intrigued by the title. After reading some reviews, I decided to place an order. The book was available in paperback from most online stores, but I still prefer my books in hardcover, if I can get one. 

I placed my special order for a hardcover copy with an online store. After a four week wait, my book arrived. I was pleasantly surprised. Helena Attlee has written a book that seduced me from the first chapter. She combines travel writing with history, recipes, horticulture and art. Reading the book, gives me a new perspective on Italy's cultural, moral, culinary and political past, and all of it through the story of lemons.

Reading the book makes me want to go back to Florence and visit the Citrus Garden at Castello, one of the oldest country residences of the Medici family having been acquired in 1477.

The book is a pleasure. The experience of preserving the freshly picked lemons was enlivened as the fragrance of lemon oil hung about me in the old kitchen. I pictured Helen Attlee’s prose. Preparing some of the book’s recipes, brings an element of the experience of the writer from the pages into my pots.

I enjoyed reading about the horticulturist’s success in saving some of the more than 100- year old trees in the gardens of Castello. It serves as an inspiration to save our lemon tree. The importance of my dream of having a garden with Bergamots, Citron and other fruit trees like the Mispel (Medlar), that were so much a part of historic gardens, was confirmed after reading this delicious book. Now I need to find a bigger garden to accommodate them all!

“A miracle is hushed; all passions are swept aside. Even the poor know that richness, the fragrance of the lemon trees.” -  The Lemon Trees, Eugenio Montale

Pickled lemons and pesto

As I watched the Swee Waxbills feeding on the seeds of the winter grass in the lawn, I was reminded that we are nearing the end of August. The herb garden has yet to be cleaned but until then, I am still enjoying the fresh rocket in salads. They are going into flower at the moment, but I am not going to keep them to harvest their seeds. I still have enough seeds from the previous season.

Swee Waxbills

When I picked the rocket leaves to make a pesto, I found an arum lily frog sitting on one of the leaves. I made a mental note to take the rocket out carefully so as not to harm the arum lily frog.

Rocket pesto

The vegetable beds need a last weeding before I start the planting. My seeds are all ready for sowing and I am looking forward to an abundant summer vegetable season. The coriander lasted very well through winter. Most likely because we had a fairly warm winter. They have been perfect with the curries and spicy stews that helped keep the chill at bay and make the colder days more bearable.

Coriander pesto

It is time for the current herbs to make space for the new season’s herbs. To put them to good use, I decided to make coriander and rocket pesto. That is one way of using up large numbers of leaves. Pesto is a delicious way of preserving the fresh taste for summer meals.

The lemon trees are still decked with fruit. I decided that the best way to use more of this versatile fruit is to pickle some in salt. I enjoy Yotam Ottolenghi’s recipes. They often call for pickled lemons. Something one does not find easily on the supermarket shelves anymore.

Pickling lemons is an easy way of preserving them. Especially if one is privileged to have organic lemons in abundance. Pickling lemons is a perfect way of preserving them for use when they are not available in the garden.

With my creativity inspired by the organic citrus in the garden, I decided to make a jar of bitter orange liqueur. For this, I used freshly picked Seville oranges. I took eight and washed them. After I had dried them, I removed the zest and placed it in a jar. I covered the zest with brandy. The peel will macerate on alcohol for about 8 weeks before I add a simple syrup. The homemade orange liqueur will be quite a treat to use in cocktails this summer.

The balmy days were too good to waste and we enjoyed our lunches on the lawn. A Portuguese style roast chicken, stuffed with fresh lemons and garlic and served with roasted potatoes, was enjoyed with a crisp Springfield Sauvignon Blanc. Life at Towerwater felt just right.

The lure of Leiwater

The traditional system of Leiwater, first introduced to the water-scarce regions of the Cape Colony hundreds of year ago, is rapidly disappearing from the rural Cape landscape.

In a photograph from 1937 the canal was just an earthen furrow running past the property

Leiwater or ‘channelled water’ is a system of leading water by open channels or furrows to properties in a town or village for the purposes of garden, allotment or farm irrigation. Each property with leiwater access rights has a beurt (turn) over a cycle of usually one week or a predetermined number of days. 

The canal following the hillside higher up in the valley

The primary source of leiwater in Bonnievale is channelled from the Breede River into the Zanddrift Irrigation canal system.  Every property’s turn is pre-determined, on payment of an annual fee, to ensure that everybody has their turn. Watering start and end times of the allocation is determined according to the size of a property. 

Traditionally, using the Leiwater irrigation system meant that your garden contained a network of earth furrows. The water is then guided from the canal through the furrows to the areas of the garden in which the water is required, strictly within the period of your leiwater turn.

An example of the sluices letting water into dams below the canal. The same was used to let water into the minor irrigation canals for the properties in the town. 

If one person does not stop their turn at the allocated time, it impacts negatively on another person’s turn and that has been the source of many disputes and even physical or legal conflict in times gone by. Each system is monitored by a specially appointed irrigation Sheriff.

The 1906 canal was lined with concrete in the early 1950's and gives it its current look and feel.

Because leiwater operates by gravity and contours, the water rights are allocated to properties that lie at a level lower than the canal.

The luxury of water

With the Zanddrift canal bordering our property we have access to leiwater (irrigation water). Although we have water restrictions, the gardens have not been adversely affected. We can still come home feeling as if we are stepping into an enchanted oasis, perfectly curated by Fungai.

The rosarium is exploding with blooms. With Wedding- and Cherry Garland adding height on the parking terrace, Veilchenblau is outperforming itself where it introduces visitors to the rosarium and the garden.

The bed of narcissus has been cut back and the white stones are back under the oak for the summer-look of the parking terrace.

The cabbages are still producing and although eaten by snails, we are still able to pick enough for coleslaw, ‘oumens onder die kombers’ (meatballs in cabbage leaves on a bed of smoored tomatoes and onions) and sauerkraut.

With the last harvest of grenadillas, I was able to freeze enough pulp for sorbet in summer. Although I worry about the performance of some of the seedlings and the damage caused by marauding snails, I still enjoy the potential of surprise as I relentlessly sow and plant to outdo the pests and diseases.

Everything that happens in the garden is thanks to the luxury of the water from the Zanddrift canal that flows silently past the property. As it does so, it gives life to a valley that was only good for stock grazing some 100 years ago.