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From Tree to Table

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I played my phone messages when I got home last night:

“Tammy, this is your neighbor Paul.  Could you give us a call?  We’re having a sort of peach crisis.”

So at 10 p.m., Paul delivered a bushel basket of peaches, harvested from one extremely prolific tree in their backyard.  Apparently my delivery was the last of about 5 that he’d made. Up  to their eyeballs in produce, with wife Shelley just getting home to recover from carpal tunnel surgery, Paul claimed that he wasn’t handling the peach-load very gracefully on his own.

One man’s trash, another woman’s treasure, right?

Paul & Shelley had no idea how much I would cherish the delivery. I’ve got this little pie-operation going and I’d run completely out of peaches in particular.  Before listening to the phone messages, I’d been scheming over my choice of ingredients for a dozen pies to prepare for this morning’s market.  A beau-coup box of plums were in the kitchen, awaiting pitting, but the word on the street, (or, at the market), was that plum pies were less desirable and peach pies were the bomb.

I ate one perfectly ripe, fuzzy, juicy and bursting fruit before bed and dreamed of summer.

Good Neighbor Peaches
Pretty plums, my favorite, awaiting preparation.
I plunge them into boiling water, then ice-cold water to easily slip the skins.
Fresh slices for the pies.
An army of peach pies,
one peekaboo-plum pie,
and this morning’s delivery is in the books!

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