We were traveling towards Oriheula from San Miguel de Salinas. It was a spur of the moment thing - no premeditation whatsoever. I saw the lemon trees, I turned the car round and pulled in so as to enable easier access to the trees, and Louise did the rest.
Just a few branches overspilled the boundaries of the crop, and Louise reached up to them. Her nimble arms seemed to scale the little trees with ease, and less and less of her was actually in the car. The lemons started to appear, small ones at first - then nicer ones, more yellow - more ripe.
Later, at the flat, I sliced into one and ate it exactly as it was - no sugar, nothing. It was sweet - not bitter at all. I have eaten some bitter ones in the past. Old, wiry lemons that have seen better days having languished for eons on supermarket displays. Our stolen lemons were in a different class entirely.
I have brought some of them back with me. If you know m very well, you might just be fortunate enough to be given one.