Dinners during a lemon grove

When the days are yellow and blue with air between the sentences. Between the words. When everything you think can take a seat. When everything you think and dream of may take time. Its time. Then it is soon summer. I almost hold the breath during this time that blooms all over the world. In my Italy, the trees are dignified by lemons, fruits, flowers and maps of something that will soon be pomegranate, oranges, lime and figs. Paradise on earth must be to sit near a lemon tree every day.

If ever I would marry me - no no no -  it's not going to happen. Do not surround another disaster! But if ... or if I had to make the last marriage undone and keep the romantic illusion that you can actually be happy with someone - then I would like to get married under a lemon tree, or several lemon trees. And keep a dinner with family and friends under a lemon grove.

But if I think a step further, then it doesn't have to be a romance involved for us to have dinners under the lemon trees. I am looking for a lemon cultivation. Or a garden where I can ask Marco to plant a variety of slightly larger lemon trees. After all, I don't have my whole life anymore. Now you have to buy larger trees if the dreams are allowed to hit. But think ...

I lose myself in such thoughts as the rapeseed outside my window happily smeses its neon yellow color all my life. Over my house, my dogs, my thoughts. Over my sleep, over my dreams and over me. All of Me.

I will never lose my love. I have lots. I have been wasteful with it, but it may never have hurt anyone I think -  And I have even more left. The more I do away with, the more there is left in my arms. Do you also know that sometimes?

It is three months ago during the day that I rolled in for surgery and during high rock music by The Rockstar Himelfelf, the leg saw and mounted a new fine knee. It chuckled for several days afterwards as if the celebration of life starting again already in surgery by pouring the foam into the kneecap. 

And so good it has become. I never thought anything else. I was so sickly motivated that it would be perfect. Now I can walk 4-5 kilometers at a time with the dogs. That means I can actually go a golf round soon. At least 9 holes. I go to bed every night with a pounding, a little swollen left. My job, the big farm, my life with three dogs means a lot of movement. But I'll be 150 so just like the situation. A little pain has no one died of. Neither do I. This pain cannot be compared to four years of broken-knee pain. I am soooo grateful. Tomorrow I have a video meeting with my operator. I do not know if we should have a singing and dance time or if I should try to show off my nice now a little tan knee. Or we'll just take a quick final talk. It remains to be seen. What I remember from previous conversations is that my doctor advised me from running a few longer distances, not playing paddle again (what cracked my knee) or do dewaver that means we have to change the misery again in 10 years. He didn't say anything about not being able to climb the lemon trees ...

May is a fantastic month. And this year it is perhaps more exciting and lovely than ever before. I gather power to be able to tread shamelessly into the summer season. The season where Reuniongården becomes a single major meeting point for thousands of people who both want and need to land in our oasis. I will finally be able to enjoy the summer on my beautiful farm. I live here again. I live here. Here should not be saved on anything. We will have the best summer of our life together. Best. Pronto. Amore. m.