peachy

I read my own blog and the inner editor goes crazy. I wonder if I would read it if I weren't the author. So, to perk things up a bit from my earlier and deeply depressing post, I'll tell you about the most perfect peach. Ever.

We stopped at Kimmel Orchard in Nebraska City yesterday. We were hoping that we could stumble upon some really excellent produce somewhere, since my own garden never materialized -- the first time since we've owned this house that I haven't had tomatoes or peppers or some embarrassing bumper crop of cucumbers and zucchini. And the birds had all my first year blackberries... I almost cried.

We bought a 5# sack of peaches, romanced by the size and the firmness but unsure about how to pick good ones... for the record, we pick terrible peaches. Either hard like rocks or mealy. A bad peach results in massive disappointment at my house and we're disappointed every summer.

But these peaches, Oh! Firm, golden, juicy, flavor times ten and just a hint of tart. It was undoubtedly the best peach I've ever had. God was really on it the day He made these peaches.

Don't bother with fruit from Wal-Mart. Just spend the money right now and find an orchard. And think of me as you founder on beautiful fruit.