This is going to be a short post as I have an early appointment. I’ll be posting over on later today with the details of the pantry pictures and giveaway. But for just a moment, I want to talk about peaches.

Yesterday was gloomy. I tried to brighten things up with a few fun projects. I made a lot of candles. I pruned my fruit trees. I set up the sewing center in anticipation of a 4-H sew on Saturday morning. Still, no matter what I did, the general sense of ennui pesisted. I needed sunshine. I made a very good dinner. We had chicken with mushrooms in wine sauce, rice and peas. But we wanted a little something sweet so after dinner I opened a jar of peaches I had canned last summer.

As soon as I tasted my first bite of peach I was transported to an August afternoon. The day was warm and pleasant. My good friend and neighbor, Judy, called to say that she was overrun with peaches and did we want some. Ben, Magggie and I pulled out some baskets and headed up the road. We spent maybe an hour climbing trees and picking peaches. The bees buzzed around the ripe fruit and the smell of those peaches perfumed every breath. Back home with our haul, the next several hours were spent peeling and pitting peaches, packing them in light syrup and getting them canned in anticipation of a February day, sunless and cheerless. We didn’t just eat peaches last night. We ate summer and sunshine, memories and anticipation in a jar. The differnece between a commercially canned peach and the ones I put up myself is the difference between what’s real and what only passes for real. My slices were not perfect in the same way a factory farmed peach is perfect but they were perfect the way nature and Gaia are perfect. On this day of clouds and cold and damp chill I toast you all with a perfectly imperfect peach.