summer fruit

For a while, I haven't been able to bring myself to buy fruit at the regular market. Have you noticed how fruit just doesn't taste like fruit anymore? Same thing if you order a fruit bowl at a restaurant. Just doesn't taste like fruit. Thank goodness for the farmers market. And with summer nearly here, there's been an emergence of summer fruit (my favorites) that I just can't resist. Take, for instance, the strawberries. I don't mean to buy strawberries every week. But when you pass a table loaded with those baskets and the smell catches you from five feet away, dudes. I just can't stop myself. I can't imagine how anyone could be immune to that scent.

Last week, it was peaches. The peach table claimed the wonders of some sort of new-fangled hybrid that was supposed to have had its acidic bite bred out of it. Perhaps it's been a while since I've bitten into a peach, but I really don't remember said bite. And so I was a little suspicious as to how these fancy-schmancy peaches would hold up.

But the nice peach farmers offered me a sample and they seemed to taste as good as I remember peaches tasting, so I bought a pound to take home with me.

A few days later I rinsed a peach and sat down at the computer to do a little surfing with my snack. I bit into that fuzzy peach and an awesome sweet juice dribbled down my chin. Tsk, tsk, what a sloppy eater I've become. And so close to my new keyboard and monitor.

I took another bite and I was reminded of summer days as a kid.
Running through the sprinklers in the backyard.
The perpetual sogginess of my hair.
The scent of towels damp from the water
and then dried in the sun laid out on the grass.
The pokey scratchiness of grass under bare feet.
The cool of the kitchen as we stepped in for a snack.
The taste of popsicle sticks that have been nibbled on long after the popsicles have been slurped.
And how everything smells a little wet after you've been playing in the water all afternoon.
Dudes. That was a good peach.