Fruit Gallery #2:
The beautiful white peach
Will soon fad away,
As will its delightful juice
And crunchy flesh.
The white peaches in my refrigerator bin do not come from my home orchard (I don’t have one). They come from the grocery store and the farmer whose name I haven’t a clue . . . who remains faceless. But in my mind, I can see his or her hands, rough with calluses, scrapes and cuts, and if he or she is not young, brown spots from the sun.
I am grateful for the farmer, the neighbor whose ambition results in too much harvest of which I reap, and the young people soaking up agriculture like a thirsty tree.
I love and am captivated by the white flesh of a peach, the hint of its sweet and mild flavor while firm and crisp.
I am mystified by how the texture changes when ripe and how unpleasant it is to my palate. Am I the only one who feels this way?
No matter.
My desire is a simple pleasure . . . one I delight in before white peaches fade away.
In and Around the Garden 