Sunlight in a Bowl

It all started with a trip to Costco a few days ago for such homely things as laundry detergent, dish soap, dishwasher pods, potty paper and facial tissues. There was no intention of coming home with food items. Indeed, both pantry and refrigerator were well stocked, and I had resolved not to bring any edibles home.

Then bags of Meyer lemons came into view, and that was the end of that. I simply had to have them. Meyers are sunlight in a bowl, and a whole dish of them on the kitchen counter lights me up. Their fragrance is sublime, and they pose for photos cheerfully, always a happy thing. I told myself they were an absolute necessity and tucked a bag into my shopping cart. What other shoppers thought of the dotty old hen muttering to a towering display of golden fruit, I have no idea. I didn't care.

Whenever I lurch out to the kitchen to make another pot of tea or throw some sorry culinary effort or other together, the Meyers make me smile. Zen teacher, writer and chef Dana Velden says that a bowl of lemons can offer us the world, and I agree with her. On a dismal morning in the depths of winter, a little sunlight is a fine old thing, especially when there is another winter storm in the offing.

Resting easy in their dish, floating in beakers of tea or gently squeezed into muffins, scones and salad drizzles, Meyers delight the eye and gladden the senses. Like clementines, another splendid seasonal offering, they conjure warm climes, gentle breezes and faraway places. One ought to indulge in such delicious, healthy and uplifting things every chance she gets, and I do.