A Midwest roadside attraction, lemons picked from the backyard, a Park City saloon.




“Her eyes had been going in and out among the curves and shadows of the fruit, among the rich purples. . .putting a yellow against a purple, a curved shape against a round shape, without knowing why she did it, or why, every time she did it she felt more and more serene. . .”
–Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse