When I was growing up, I imagined what it must be like to live in a city: Apartment, dirt, noise, odors, crime, crowdedness. But here I am, living in a city. (Does Santa Monica count as a real, big city? Of course it does, especially since I can easily walk across the invisible line that separates it from L.A. Proper, L.A. being the second largest city in the U.S.) And life in a city is not at all what I thought it would be. There’s some noise, sure, and some dirt … lots of apartments. But a large part of my time here is spent in No. 6, where we have the beginnings of ten lemons on our patio lemon tree, and where I can get drunk on the scent of lemon blossoms. Not too bad.