I’m absolutely rubbish at growing citrus. My meyer lemon barely made it this year and I only got 2 fruits that refused to turn yellow. I plucked them green anyway and they were surprisingly juicy and amazing in flavor.
Don’t know how much longer my current tree will survive, so I saved the seeds and started life anew.
You might also want to try spells that enhance how you come off to others and charisma on yourself, such as my Charisma Enchantment or Goddess Glamour (which can be adapted for masculine/gender neutral peeps). You can adapt this Dandelion Wishing Spell to wish for friendship (someone suggest tea tree oil; orange oil would also work nicely). I also have a Love Drawing Spell that can easily be used to attract platonic love.
General correspondences to friendship magic: yellow, yellow roses, oranges, sunflowers, daisies, tea tree, pine, lemon rind, flowers, pink
‘I have a photograph of myself when I was a boy of sixteen. Is it a photograph of me? I am not really sure. Who is this boy in the photograph? Is it the same person as me or is it another person? Look deeply before you reply.
There are many people who say that the boy in the photograph and I am the same. If the boy is the same as I am why does he look so different? Is that boy still alive or has he died? He is not the same as I am and he is also not different. Some people look at that photograph and think the young boy is no longer around.
A person is made of body, feelings, perceptions, mental formations and consciousness, and all of these have changed in me since that photograph was taken. The body of the boy in the photograph is not the same as my body, now that I am in my seventies. The feelings are different, and the perceptions are very different. It is just as if I am a completely different person from that boy, but if the boy in the photograph did not exist, then I would not exist either.
I am a continuation like the rain is the continuation of the cloud. When you look deeply into the photograph, you can see me already as an old man. You do not have to wait fifty-five years. When the lemon tree is in flower, you may not see the fruit, but if you look deeply you can see that the fruit is already there. You just need one more condition to bring forth the lemons: time. Lemons are already there in the lemon tree. Look at the tree and you only see branches, leaves and flowers. But if the lemon tree has time it will express itself in lemons.’
Peaceful, I think. It’s made up of ‘best memories’, so I’m sure there are people whose best memories are concerts or parties or all manner of loud, noisy, populated things.
Cas’s heaven would be very much like the heaven of the autistic man who drowned in the bathtub; the heaven Cas favored during the civil war?
I think a large part of Cas’s heaven would be centered around the home he and Dean shared while Cas was alive. Maybe he had a garden out back, and in Heaven the season is always right for whatever he wants to do; if he wants to plant, it’s a good time to plant. If he wants to harvest, he can harvest. If he wants flowers, they’re in bloom. (And sometimes, all these things are happening simultaneously. He can plant seeds and collect apples for pie and even plant things that could never have thrived in the soil back home; a key lime tree, a lemon tree, exotic flowers not yet discovered by humans in the depths of the Amazon.
Dean’s memory occasionally keeps his company, the days and nights he longs for his husband so much he conjures up a memory. In some ways, though, the facsimile just makes things worse, because it’s not Dean, not really.
However, the construct is only there when Cas wills it and doesn’t seem to be a permanent fixture in this place. It worried Cas at first, but as the days - years? - passed, he found himself hoping that maybe Dean’s memory doesn’t live here with him because this Heaven is waiting for one more occupant.
And then, years later (though time ceases to have meaning in Heaven), Cas hears the slam of a familiar car door. He freezes where he’s kneeling in the garden, hands and face covered in dirt, and listens.
He hears the heavy tread of familiar boots on the little stone walkway leading into the backyard. When the gate swings open, Cas turns his head and sees Dean.