Peaches and Cream

A peach tree captured my childhood imagination.

Central to the grassy backyard of the yellow house on Beland Avenue, its heavy branches dripped with sweet stone fruit every summer.

I famously pruned her limbs in the springtime when I wanted to take pink- blossomed branches to my teacher, not really understanding that it meant a lesser seasonal yield. Somehow, though, it produced buckets full every August. Perhaps a serendipitous nod to the magic of childhood…or the importance of showing up with stunning bouquets for the one who would be grading your performance. 

I can see my mom canning those peaches now. A damp ringlet stuck to her forehead as she peaked over the pot of steamy water on the stovetop to inspect the mason jars. 

I’ve shared my love of this stone fruit with my grandkids, waxing about how summer is encapsulated in one fat golden orb of goodness. We slice them, dust them with cinnamon sugar and splash them with cream, allowing me to reflect on how I always dreamt about a “peaches and cream” complexion or what it means when someone remarks, “He’s a peach of a guy.” 

The pinnacle was reached yesterday when one of them announced, “I want peach pie for Thanksgiving, Nana. It’s the best.” 

Mission accomplished. I’ve taught them to love what I love.

Which reminds me of what a wise friend shared with me when our children were choosing potential mates and we complained about what would happen if their chosen one didn’t like us. 

“I mean, can you imagine not liking us?”

“How could that possibly be?” we whined. Humbly, I might add. Not.

This friend then said the simplest, most impactful thing. 

“I will love who they love.”

For those of you spiritually minded, I think that’s called taking the plank out of my eye first.

Which led me to ponder, what else or who else do I love that I am teaching others to love, too? Not necessarily by using words, but by my actions or attitudes.

This has been my late-night musing as of late.

Just food for thought. 

Turns out, I lucked out in the in-law department. My son-in-law and my  daughters-in-law are A++. I hit the jackpot as they actually like me (unless they’re very good actors) and I think that they hung the moon.

~

For fellow lovers of peaches… and children’s books…who knows the author of this poem?

“Now comes,” the Centipede declared, “the burden of my speech:

These foods are rare beyond compare – some are right out of reach;

But there’s no doubt I’d go without

A million plates of each

For one small mite,

One tiny bite,

Of this FANTASTIC PEACH!”

~

Did you guess correctly? Roald Dahl, James and the Giant Peach.

For more than one tiny bite, read on for a recipe for the real peaches and cream, Vanilla Panna Cotta with Peach Salsa. I’ve added a second recipe this month, Stone Fruit Salad with Baked Goat Cheese Coins.