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Wednesday, August 13, 2008
need. . .a. . .break. . .
Listening to:Breathe, Pink Floyd
Reading:it's a secret
Weather:60, gorgeous
Though it's been wildly cool and comfortable this August (down in the 40's at night more than once!), I'm feeling a bit stifled. Time for me to get a grip on my time management, I'm rather overwhelmed and it sucks. I need to remind myself I have the power to solve these millions of problems, I just need to take a breath and exercise it. Yeah, real Tony Robbins of me or some such shit. Whateveh.

I wish I had some more fruit trees at my house. Again, I have the power, I should get up and grab a shovel. I have plenty of apple trees, and they are falling over with fruit this year. But I'd really like some plums and peaches, too. Time to investigate this notion into some reality.

It all started with my first taste of the delectable spiced peaches I bought near Winchester VA this weekend. I was going to a wedding, my sweet friends Ralph and Peggy, and we arrived early enough to stop at a groovy little roadside fruit market. I saw the jar of peaches and remembered my grandmother Zerelda. I know, sounds like something from a vampire movie or a video game, but my granny was really named Zerelda, and she was an amazing woman. She was born in western Kentucky, a country girl, who busted out and went to Washington DC in the 20's or 30's. She married a fast-talking charmer of a lawyer, my grandfather who died before I was born, and had a baby (my dad) when she was around 40 yrs old. Actually she had a husband before my grandfather, whom she divorced, and then she took a cruise around the world with the settlement money. She eventually bought a gigantic home in Old Town, Alexandria and turned it into a boarding house. The house is on a quarter of a city block, I mean freakin huge, 20-some fireplaces in it, 15 foot ceilings.

Back to the peaches. Zerelda was nearly 6 feet tall, large and in charge. She was a southern girl with southern tastes. I remember we used to eat canned spiced peaches and red spiced apple rings with our biscuits. Though biscuits are ubiquitous I haven't seen a spiced peach or apple in ages, so I was intrigued when I saw the jar of peaches at the market.

These are as delicious as they are beautiful. They are in a sweet clear spicy syrup. No tartness or tang, though, I'm pretty sure those peaches I ate with my granny Z were pickled with vinegar, these are not. But still satisfying and beautiful, these have just the right ripeness and give in the bite, vivid orange half-spheres.

How cool would it be to can them from my own tree? There's some kind of obvious reap-what-you-sow lesson here, but I'm going to employ a timeless avoidance and denial strategy before it sinks in: once Livi is away at college next year and my nest is empty I'll get out the shovel. Yeah, that's the ticket.


permalink posted by cat 7:22 AM

read 5 comments

Comments:
I think you should find out how to distill your peaches into peach moonshine (after you actually have peaces on the tree) and sell such moonshine on Ebay
 
I concur! Peach Shine @ beer night!!!
 
Cat: Both of those comments were mine. Let's shine on at BN in Sept :)
 
DtM, you sneaky little trickster. Shine at BN, sounds dangerous. But we laugh in the face of danger, mwaahaahahaaahahahahahahahaha.
 
We'd have to have a BN sleep over if we were ever to go that route :)...or hire a limo

peace out
 
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