Dear Peaches,
I want to pick you.
The air was already heavy with the thickness of humidity combined with 80 degree temperatures and it was only 10am. The smell of warm peaches smooshed on the ground and cooking in sour juices wafted to my nose as everyone daintily stepped through the alleyways between the trees hoping to avoid all of the soft fruit hidden under the peach laden branches that have now broken off trees and are laying on the ground in a sad heap.
We were already so thirsty after being outside for 30 minutes that picking peaches straight from tree and savagely biting into them was our favorite choice. We wanted to have the juice running down our arm just to have the sweetness fill us.
On this cold and stormy looking day…I want you, sweet peaches, and that warm and sticky morning filled with fun and that dip in the swimming pool that followed.
xoxo,
Davina
Leave a reply