Friday, August 23, 2013

All This Juice and All This Joy

     Holding a ripe peach in my hand, I peel away the eager, blushing skin to the sweet, golden flesh beneath. I am making a pie, filling a deep, porcelain bowl with thick slices of mellow fruitfulness. The pie is a gift to my husband. I know from experience that no matter how well I handle the flour, butter, sugar and cinnamon, it is the peach that makes the pie.

     These peaches are perfect.

     Perfect as the pulse of color in the ardent evening sky. Perfect as the kiss of sunshine on a child’s cheek. Perfect as the flame of summer as it burns into autumn. Perfect as the warm embrace of memory on a winter afternoon.

     From bud burst to blossom and burgeoning fruit these peaches were blessed. Long after the pie is consumed, I will be savoring the juice and joy of them.

post title from Spring by Gerard Manley Hopkins


  1. Your pie of perfect peaches sounds well-deserving of such a fine post title, and such descriptive writing. Happy eating.

  2. This is utterly beautiful. As if you had taken a paint brush and used it as your pencil. I see the words but also the quality of light in fruit and sky.

    And you did it all with an economy of words, which I envy so very much.

    1. Bless you Dewena. I so enjoy pleasing folks like you.