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Thursday, July 23, 2020

I’ve had my first peach of the season and It. Was. Perfect. Perfect. Warm; juicy but not water-balloon juicy; firm flesh, no pith; sweet but not toothache-inducing sweet. Perfect.

I always worry a bit about that first peach. Peaches are my favorite fruit. Ever since I was a little kid and stole them off the neighbor’s tree. Well, I pretended to steal them. The tree was in her yard but the lacy branches stretched over ours. She said we were welcome to whatever was on our side. But pirates dispense with these niceties and I was often a pirate, and those peaches were mine to plunder.

Peaches have such a short season, even in Southern California, and that is part of their appeal. It is something to look forward to every year. Something that makes us watch those spring freezes in case they burn the blooms too much, leaving a small harvest. We wait and wait as the days get longer and hotter and even as the days continue to blaze, they suddenly begin to shorten, and voila! Peaches arrive! Just about the All-Star break in a Pre-COVID-19 baseball-filled summer.

We choose that first batch with care & trepidation. WILL they live up to our expectations? Will the taste transport us back to those days when we, along with our First Mate, Sloopy, sailed the high seas in a Silk Oak tree? I mean ship?

I know there’s a lesson in there somewhere. Probably two or three, but in our world right now I think the best lesson is to remember to appreciate everything we can. Accept the blessings that come our way, even in the form of a perfectly ripe peach, especially in the form of a perfectly ripe peach. Experience it fully and remember how amazing life can be.


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