When Life Gave America Lemons: A History of Lemonade, Stands, and Summer Sweetness

Ah, lemonade. That golden, ice-cold elixir of summer. The official drink of front porches, sweaty kids, and mysteriously overpriced roadside stands run by ambitious six-year-olds. It’s as American as apple pie—except, well, it came from way over yonder.

A Lemon-Scented Journey Through Time

Before lemonade became the MVP of backyard barbecues, it had a long journey. Lemons themselves originated in Asia, and the first documented lemonade-like beverage dates back to 13th-century Egypt, where folks mixed lemon juice with sugar and water. (Because even ancient Egyptians knew that plain water was boring.)

This is how I imagine the ancient conversation went: “Girl, take the lemon. You clearly need it more than I do.”

Lemonade made its way to France in the 17th century, where street vendors sold it from giant tanks strapped to their backs. Imagine a guy wandering around Paris, yelling, “Get your lemonade!” with a vat of citrus strapped to him—hydration and upper body strength training.

Behold, the original lemonade stand—except it walks, it sweats, and it’s questionably French. Refreshing? Oui. Attractive? Not so much.

By the time lemonade hit America in the 1800s, it was love at first sip. We took to it like ducks to water—or, rather, like overheated humans to ice-cold beverages. It became the drink of choice for everything from church socials to state fairs. Then, during Prohibition, when alcohol was suddenly not the answer (tragic, really), lemonade became the respectable, family-friendly drink of summer.

But while lemonade made its mark on history books, it left an even sweeter imprint on our summers—especially the sticky, sun-soaked kind spent chasing shade, swatting bugs, and sipping something cold from a plastic cup.

From Sahara’s Stand to the Farmhouse Porch

And of course, with lemonade comes the classic lemonade stand. Sahara, my daughter, decided to start her own—and in a stroke of pure branding genius, she called it “Sahara’s Desert Oasis.” (Get it? Sahara… desert… oasis? Honestly, marketing gold.) And yes—we used Country Time powder. Not homemade. Not artisanal. The neon yellow, slightly radioactive stuff that tastes like childhood in a cup. She paired it with a couple of chocolate chip cookies and set up shop at the end of the driveway, fully committed. It was the hottest week of the summer, and somehow cars actually lined up. One woman handed her five bucks and said, “Keep the change for college.” We’re not saying lemonade paid her way—but it definitely padded the Barbie fund. She may not have squeezed lemons by hand, but we’ve got a fresh-squeezed recipe you can try for yourself at the end of this blog.

Sahara, CEO of “Desert Oasis,” ready to make hydration history—cookies optional, confidence not.

Inspired by Sahara’s booming business, she and her siblings once tried to set up a family lemonade stand at our farmhouse in western Maryland—where we spend summers, just like I did growing up at Penny & Rose’s farm in western Pennsylvania. The idea was cute in theory. But our house is a good mile off a dirt road, hidden behind trees and hills and, let’s be honest, not exactly visible to anyone without GPS and a strong sense of adventure. Still, the kids set up shop on the front porch, complete with a hand-drawn sign and pitchers of lemonade, convinced the crowds would come. Spoiler: they didn’t. But me (Mom)? Oh, I bought a lot of lemonade that day. Quality control, obviously.

Penny & Rose: Lemonade, Porch Gliders, and Summer Memories

Now, if there was one thing you could count on in the summer, it was Rose and her endless supply of lemonade. We’d be out running wild in the heat—barefoot, sticky with grass, our faces pink from the sun—and without fail, Rose would be waiting on the porch, a fresh glass in hand. It wasn’t just for us kids, either. Neighbors, visitors, even the occasional wandering salesman—she always had a pitcher ready.

We’d sit on the porch glider, the ice clinking in our glasses, swapping stories as the sun dipped low. The sweet-tart taste of that lemonade was summer itself—bright, refreshing, just right. It wasn’t just a drink; it was a tradition, a welcome, a way of saying, sit down, stay awhile.

That’s the kind of nostalgia Penny & Rose captures with our Lawn Chair Lemonade fragrance—a scent that brings you right back to those summer evenings, when life was simple, sweet, and smelled like fresh-squeezed lemons. It’s the memory of lemonade stands with hand-drawn signs, sticky fingers from too much sugar, and that first icy sip on a hot day. No running required—just a comfy lawn chair, a deep breath, and maybe, just maybe, a tall glass of the real thing.

Cheers to summer, memories, and the timeless magic of lemonade.

Did your lemonade stand make 42 cents and a melted crayon? Or maybe your grandma had the perfect ratio of sugar to lemon? We want to hear it—share your sweet (or tart!) lemonade memories in the comments below!

Shop Our Collection