The Gift of Peaches
Photo by Ian Baldwin on Unsplash
Featured in the Dayton Daily News
I love getting lost in summertime. For me, there’s a freedom born from the accessibility of nature and her fruits. I’m among the few who has no problem when the thermometer inches towards 90 degrees. I love open windows. I love hearing the birds and crickets serenade each day’s dawn. I love being outside, and I love the simplicity of existence. Come June, my hair and makeup regime becomes non-existent. My wardrobe consists of sandals and sleeveless tent dresses, and my kitchen pots and pans take a respite from the bold soups and stews of winter time comfort.I’ve decided one of my favorite events of summer is peach season. Biting into a ripe peach is nothing short of amazing. The messy drip of peach juice rolling down my chin overtakes me with deliciousness. Lately, my diet is saturated with this nectar of the gods. Each morning I reach for a ripe peach, beginning my day with a burst of candy-like sweetness awakening my taste buds with soft and melodious delight. I have no discipline when Georgia peaches line my kitchen counter. Sliced peaches for lunch, grilled peaches with chicken for dinner, and (best of all) peach cobbler with vanilla ice cream for dessert. I’ve had more peach cobbler in the last few weeks than I’ve had in my past 59 years. I don’t know what it is about ice cream surrendering to a still warm bowl of peaches encased in caramelized batter, but the experience is completely entrancing. It’s a good thing my tent-like dresses are so accepting of my expanding waistline.
I love those occasions when a simple and ordinary act can rise above the unawareness of our daily trek. It’s like when you look at the nighttime sky and sometimes, if you pay attention long enough, you see a falling star. Standing upon an ocean’s shore can bring anyone to childlike glee when they see a dolphin in the distance gracefully jumping through waves. I have the privilege of being a grandparent, and spending time with my “little ones” undoubtedly calls me to an unmatched state of presence. I don’t even pay attention when flour from our cookie baking coats my face or when grass shards cover my legs after running through the sprinkler. Like a good peach, the opportunities for “in the moment” savor is endless; only if you make yourself available and allow your busy mind to rest.
At the risk of sounding too Pollyanna-ish, I realize life is a bit more complicated than peaches and dolphins. Paying attention to the larger world can be despairing. Toxicity festers in plenty of places in our society, and there are plenty of ways our energies can be hijacked by hurtful rhetoric or confusion in trying to understand others’ motives. Heartache reigns for those suffering loss or illness, and the daily challenge to be hopeful requires constant effort. Worries and angst will always loom, which is why the occasional (or in the case of peaches…often) respite born from the earth’s gifts need to be given their due. I also realize that when in the midst of difficulty, something as simple as a peach can transcend, even for an instant, that which feels heart heavy; whereby offering an opportunity to refuel our grit. Just like with everything purely good, I wish peach season could last all year long. How many times do we wish a joyful wedding celebration would never end, or want just one more day of a vacation getaway. Wistful longings will always be followed by a deep breath of desire, which is why I am so grateful for the gift of the peach. At least for today, there’s a blue bowl sitting on my counter, and even though the mound of lusciousness is dwindling, I know that there are a few sure moments of sweetness awaiting me.