the perfect peach

For summer,

And its fleeting joys (or sorrows).

The same day that my poet friend Diane had facebook lamented a disappointing peach, yours truly was questing for the the Perfect Peach and was too lucky to find it eight steps from the back door. 
So we are attempting to share them with you ... ... ...

 See, the peach is a fruit that resists transport.  Because ripening is such a quiet subtle operation. When the flavor and texture collide perfectly and release the seed.  It is a beautiful sensation indeed.

Peaches and their precious way of being tender and sour and the right amount of firm and sweet all at the same time have caused miles of wasteful packaging strategies and unfortunate refrigeration trucks that deaden and stunt the flavorful finish of hang time on tree.  Grocers offer mealy aftermaths or hard and never ready shams, fruit suspended in wrong air for wrong amount of time.

And still, in the 21st century, you have to kindly ask grocery packer boygirl to not put the jar of tomato sauce in the same bag.  The peaches who imprint our nicks and knocks of summer like children's knees.

And peach colors, well who couldn't be smitten with that sunfull speckle blend that invented the airbrush.

 And just the right amount of fuzz for complexion protection and dew.

The perfect peach tastes like
the best seconds of a perfectly lovely day that runs down your arm.

And if mother-of-us-all Phoebe said someone was just a "peach", well then they sincerely were.

We hope to heavens that you are finding your summer to be somewhat flavorful,

despite the news.  And that you have some real peaches in your life to hang around with.
Until then.