We rolled in from the last cow show of the year. It was dark and cold and I was looking forward to climbing into a warm, comfy bed. The not-quite-full-moon was bright and orange and hovering over the eastern sky.

As I opened the car door, I heard the howl of several coon hounds in the woods. They must have been successful in treeing a coon. My husband got a fire started in the cornstove and I began making several trips to unload the car. As I listened to the coon hounds howl, I wondered if any of those hunters were our FFA students. We have a couple who love to hunt.

I shut the trunk of the car and looked up to see a four-wheel-drive diesel truck slow down like it wanted to stop. I knew it had to be a neighbor driving by that slowly, so I figured they needed something. At the same time, a text from my son came in telling me that one of his friends was stopping by to get something out of his vehicle.

He said he wanted to give me a heads-up so I didn’t think something sketchy was going on. I responded: Sketchy? It’s a big diesel truck; around here that’s not sketchy, that’s called a neighbor.

When you live in a rural area, you know the vehicles that travel your road. It’s not necessary to even see the vehicle to identify who it is. It only takes three things to identify the vehicle and their destination: the sound of their car, how fast they are going and the time of day.

However, I’m still at a complete loss as to where the two lemons came from that showed up on my dining room table on Sept. 2. I noticed them, but never paid much attention, since they weren’t mine. I assumed they were there for a reason –and that at some point, the reason would surface.

I posted about it on social media; no one knew where they came from. I asked my daughter; she knew nothing. I thought maybe my son had some reason to have two lemons, maybe for a class project or someone gave them to him for a strange and quirky reason.

Nope, he knew nothing.

So, then I asked my son’s girlfriend. I figured she must have had plans for them, maybe to make a pie or lemonade or something and she just never got around to it. Nope, she knew nothing.

Finally, when everyone was at home, I asked who brought the lemons home. Nothing. No one had any idea where they came from.

I put them in the fridge and haven’t thought about them until now. Someone must have dropped them off at my house. But I have no idea who and why.

Funny how we can piece together the who, what, where, when and why of anyone who drives by the farm … but the origin of two lemons on my dining room table remains a mystery.

The views and opinions expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of Farm World. Readers with questions or comments for Melissa Hart may write to her in care of this publication.