I’m out of lemons. I told Fuzzy this as we were en route to the Kinko’s in Arlington, but he didn’t grasp the impact of my announcement. In fact, he still doesn’t really understand why this is a major Thing and not just a fact.

It’s not just that I had to use a tangerine on the Dover sole, tonight (which wasn’t quite the flavor I was going for, but was still tasty), it’s that without lemons, I can’t drink water. I’m bad about drinking water, but an unofficial resolution was to be healthier this year, and water is a key component of my twelve-month plan. Except that I hate it, and it always feels like I’m really drinking lead.

Then, last weekend, I realized that if I pop a slice of lemon in the bottom of one of my pretty bottle-green tumblers (each of which holds 12 ounces of water), and keep refilling the glass, refreshing the lemon every so often, I’m able to drink water all day long – without the lead feeling.

And now we’re out of lemons.

Which, while bad enough, is compounded by the fact that I left my Meyer lemon tree in California, when we moved. (In my own defense, it wouldn’t fit in the car, and a month in storage would have killed it.) And I miss having the delicate scent of lemon blossoms waft up at me whenever I step out the back door, just as I miss the convenience of picking a lemon whenever I want.

I spent some time doing research today, finally figuring out that the DFW region is in USDA’s zone 8, and that lemons and limes can, in fact, be grown here, as long as they’re either protected or brought inside when it gets below freezing.

So now, I’m looking at pictures of lemons, in bowls, on trees, intact, sliced, alone, mixed with other citrus…

I’m having lemon lust.

Note: image from iStockPhoto