Do you know what my favorite part of summer is? Peaches. Amongst other fruit the grand peach stands alone, a beacon of pristine beauty and fuzz. I love peaches. From the way their sweet juice inevitably drips down my chin and I wipe it off with the back of my hand, essentially throwing away years of etiquette and manners that my mother instilled in me. I love looking at the wrinkly, roughened exterior of the pit, and then perhaps throwing it into a nearby bush in the hopes a new peach tree will grow. I love the warm, pink memories of sitting in the kitchen boiling peaches with my dad, and then dunking them in ice-cold water. The feel of their velvety peels as the skin slides off, revealing the perfectly smooth and glistening surface below, still warm from its bath. I love going downstairs into the dark and dingy basement to grab a can of those beautiful blushing peaches, to be poured into a bowl and enjoyed bit by bit, using my morning toast to wipe up the thick syrup they leave behind.
Here’s to you peach, the most beautiful of all summer fruits. Though you may be overshadowed at times by strawberries or raspberries, you shall always hold a place in my heart.