It was no mere peach.
It was nectar of the gods, enveloped in a fuzzy blanket…
all the best parts of life with a hard candy core…
childhood giggles and drippy chins…
{Too much, right? Too much.}
I have no photos of this peach from the day we picked it. It would have been tacky to photograph myself swatting my children away from the last few bites of the first peach of summer. But y’all, it was so good. It was grocery-store sized; none of the rest {still on the tree} are that big. I don’t know if it’s just been chilling there so much longer than the others, or if the first one is like the sweet promise of young love…
{PULL BACK. PULL BACK. OVER THE TOP.}
I do, however, have some photos from the rest of summer’s funness.
Exhibit A:
Bouquet awesome.
If I gnosh her nose right off her face it’s because I absolutely adore freckles.
A sweet friend gave me this vase for my birthday. {Yes, you’re correct, 29. Perpetually.} It’s short and squatty and all the handy as the bitties have a fondness for picking flowers at the most inconvenient of stem lengths. We try to focus and discuss this propensity, but you know, they’re putting all those hormones in the milk and the chickens now and kids these days…
We’ve had visitors a-plenty, and don’t you know I put them to work.
Now this your jam, now do your thing.
{If you’ve made it this far would you please observe the leaky post? Gross, right? Totally gross. Soooo it’s sap. And it’s always there. Except when I get so grossed out that I clean it off but it just comes back to mock me, and how. Sometimes only hours later. Anyway, is there something I can do about this? Perhaps I should use this new thing I keep hearing about, schmoogle, maybe? Ah, someday I’ll check it out…}
Back to the lecture at hand:
Don’t gimme no lip.
Boy howdy.
No newsletter digest this month, people. It’s because I don’t like you. Or maybe more because I’m slap out of bitty-less free time. Probably that. It’s probably that one. No complaining, okay? Eat a peach, hug a neighbor, and wear your freckles with pride.
