Color In The Tree

Today like any other day I drove to the barn and let the horses out. Checking them over and making sure they were ok before being put out to pasture. When I turned back into the drive at home a glare high in the tree caught my eye.

Such a beautiful peach! Oh are they ready! excited as a child as I parked the car.

As I walked over to the tree I scared away our outside pet. Walleee (the groundhog) was eating the peaches on the ground. While I had seen him on hind legs eating at the green hard peaches of spring... this time much was gone but the pits this time around.

I touched a peach ever so gentle and it fell in my hand.

They must be ready I thought and filled my shirt at the waste with fuzzy peaches.

I brought them inside, cut one open, and juice ran down my hands as I pulled it apart...

OH the softness on the tongue, the juice that woke my mouth up better than the coffee this morning.

I must do something with these!

As I started to cut them up, having to fight the birds, as they too could tell how perfect these tiny things were. I finally gave in giving each bird 1/2 a peach and went on with my cutting, peeling, and baking.

A child hood thought floated through my mind as I worked on my peaches. The memory of Aunt Alma cutting and peeling peaches for me as I sat in the other room talking with Uncle William. She too had picked them from a tree in the back yard. These peaches were given to me in a bowl with sugar sprinkled on top. As I ate them with my hands that day, a still folded crisp kitchen towel was placed in my lap to catch the juices. Just like now as I rest my arm on the towel as I cut over a bowl and feel the juices run down my wrist.

The cool morning breeze catches my attention...