It is late on a Sunday night. A knock at my back door. Who is bugging me on a Sunday evening? And why at my back door? I open it inches wide. My neighbor, sheepishly declares that she and her husband have been eating the peaches off our tree without telling us. What? I couldn't believe it! No, I didn't care that she'd been eating my peaches. I cared that I HAD PEACHES?? I had no idea! (Shows how much time I spend outside!) Sure enough. We have a lovely little peach tree; and the fruit it produces is to die for! Seriously, if you don't believe, ask all my neighbors who've sampled of the nectar. They are the most delicious peaches I have ever tasted. So, last year, I attempted to delve into my pioneer stock and can those gorgeous things. It ruined my stove top and, 'though the beautiful, bottled jars all lined up like orange soldiers looked amazing, the fruit was mushy and gross. I know, I must've messed up somewhere in the process. At any rate, I wasn't about to give it the good college try another year running. Instead, last Saturday (yes, my peaches ripen pretty late it turns out) I rounded up the kidlets and we spent the morning picking from our tree. The kids then tried to sell our lovely harvest (with few takers, I might add!) Whatever, people don't even know what they're missing out on, and that's fine with me. We pawned them off to family and a couple of friends and ate the rest ourselves. Delicious!!
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