I was freezing peaches and I looked down at my finished work.
The ripe and slightly over-ripe scraps, skins and pitts sat in one bowl.
The freshly-sliced, pinky-orange pile of summer stared back at me from the counter in another black and white bowl.
I remembered, suddenly, that I had been here before.
In the evening, when the rest of the day’s work was done, preserving.
Once before, I had stood and sliced.
I even used this exact wedding-gift bowl, a July or two ago.
Freezing Georgia’s summer to warm our Dakota winters with peach cobbler.
I washed off the sticky juice and breathed in the musty, too sweet smell of peaches.
It all mixed in with a familiarity I hadn’t felt in years.
{For Laurel, thanks for encouraging me to find a bit of time for this space again.}
I love your blog because it is a reminder that life lived simply but fully is a wonderful thing. I know that much of your life is mightly complicated too.