05/02/2026
Today something small happened that, to me, wasn’t small at all—and I want to explain why.
At Limoncello, the citrus trees, flowers, and vegetables on our patio are not decorations. They are living things we have nurtured and cared for over years. Anyone who has ever brought a struggling plant back to life knows the patience, time, and emotional investment that takes.
Four years ago, I rescued an orange tree that was in terrible shape. Slowly, season by season, it came back to life. This year, for the first time, it gave us one single fruit. One. It was large, healthy, and just beginning to ripen. We were only a couple of weeks away from finally picking it. Guests had noticed it, photographed it, and shared in that small moment of joy with us.
Today, after a private event I walked out on the patio, and of course, immediately noticed the orange was gone! I quickly went to our security cameras and saw a young boy 12-13 years old walked up to it punching it a few times like a punching bag then pulled it right off the tree and walked away! Mind you in front of an adult women who watched the entire time!
Yes, it was “just an orange.” But it wasn’t just an orange to me. It represented four years of care, patience, and pride—gone in a moment without a second thought.
And I want to be very clear: I can’t be angry at the child. Children act based on what they are taught—or not taught. This comes down to parenting.
My four children nor my grandchildren would never walk into someone else’s space and take or damage something that isn’t theirs, because they were raised to understand respect and boundaries—just as I was raised by my parents.
This is also not the first time this has happened. We’ve had children pull flowers out of the ground, snap sunflowers, pick vegetables,and run around disturbing other diners—while parents stood by and said nothing.
What has become harder to understand is the growing sense of entitlement that some people carry into shared spaces. As if because something is visible, beautiful, or within reach, it exists for them in that moment alone. As if it is theirs to take, touch, or damage without considering that it is part of something meant for everyone to enjoy over time. That mindset erases respect—for the space, for the work, and for everyone else who comes after.
Still today I see and experience, the same lack of awareness repeat itself again.
We do have signs asking guests not to pick from the trees or disturb the plants, but this goes beyond signage. This is about basic respect, boundaries, and understanding that not everything you can reach is yours to take.
If you visit Limoncello, please enjoy the trees, flowers, and garden. Take photos. Share the beauty. But leave them as they are so others can experience that same joy.
This isn’t about one orange. It’s about what that orange represented—and what respect for shared space should mean.
