“...those peaches, hanging like constellations in the leafy
sky? In this darkening world, they are the only steady light.”
Barbara Crooker
When I try to imagine what the Greeks meant by ambrosia, that food of the gods delivered to Olympus by doves, I cannot imagine anything more heavenly than ripe, sweet golden peaches picked fresh from a tree in August. Fortunately I do not have to wait for avian delivery, but merely a trip to Bilton’s in Hampden.
On a recent trip I asked when they would last have peaches and was told, “The end of August.” So this morning, the first of September, I was pleased to see I still had a few left before the long wait for next season.
I picked one that looked ripe and perfect, no blemishes, then squeezed it every so gently, and it responded, “Yes.” I peeled off its downy skin with my fingers, cut off sections, removed the fruit willingly from the pit and slipped it onto my oatmeal, my hands dripping with its sweet, slippery juice.
But the pure joy came with my first bite. This was the perfect peach at the perfect moment. A day or even an hour earlier or later, and it would have been less-than, but here on this morning I was enjoying ambrosia!
The last few days have been difficult for me as I am dealing with the news that my cancer, dormant for 16 years, has returned. I don’t know what lies ahead, but I am reminded once again this morning that we only have this moment, and moments like this are meant to be savored.
Wishing you many perfect peach moments!
