It is spring and so I am looking out my office window at the Cherry tree that has bloomed there for many years. Never had a cherry, but blooms any way. Beside it is the Apricot tree. And in the front yard is the bare place where two Peach trees used to be. Only one of them ever made peaches although they stood side by side. The one on the east bloomed, but was barren. Oh, but the one on the west had the biggest, juiciest peaches God ever put on this big earth. Bushels of them. And the wind would thin the peaches and we still would harvest enough to feed us and enough to can for the winter. In Colorado, that only happens about once every 7 years because it inevitably freezes. Eventually the bores got bad and the trees had to be taken out and burned.
Ah, but the Peach tree I am thinking of today was back in Nickerson, Kansas, 60 years ago. It was out the back door and across the drive. It had probably been a seed that was thrown down and grew to adult hood hanging over the back of the shed. It seemed to be the only fruit tree that I recall, except for the Mulberry tree that kept our feet dyed purple all summer. ( And for the record, the birds all pooped purple that time of year.)
But back to the Peach tree. In Kansas we had better luck with things not freezing in the spring and that Peach tree was no exception! It did not fascinate the other kids nearly as much as it did me. I would wait for the blooms to dry up and then search for signs of fruit. I was always rewarded at some point in time with tiny peaches "setting on". Now trust me here...if you have ever lived in a small town, you know that there is not a lot to do. We could lay in the weeds and spy on the neighbors, chase the chickens, walk around the block, or we could watch those peaches growing. Mother was forever telling me, "You don't be eating those until they are big and change color. You will have the worst belly ache of your life."
Well, now that was like throwing gas on the fire. The more she cautioned me, the more I could taste that peach. (Oh, mother, if you are looking down on me, I do not blame you in any way. You tried to save me from myself )
The cemetery was about a quarter of a mile from our house and that was another favorite place to play. I remember once flying a kite and it got loose and sailed over the cemetery, but the string caught in a tree. It was too high up for me to climb and get it loose so I had to leave it. The next day it was crashed and broken. So much for the kite.
Mother always planted a garden and one of the main things she grew was Yams. She planted them on top of furrows and ran water down the ditches. I remember once it was my job to run the water and I was standing on a board watching the water run in and a big spider ran up my leg and I killed him on my knee. I have always been terrified of spiders and that did not help me get over it either.
Back to the Peach tree. I controlled myself pretty well, but when the peaches were about the size of a small tangerine, I thought I could see a hint of color on them. Had to hold it up to the light and turn it this way and that, but, yes it was a little less green on this side. So I bit into it. The first bite was not near as sweet as I thought it should be, so I took another bite and then picked another peach in case it was sweeter and had another bite or two. To make a long story short, I am here to tell you that my mother was dead on about the effects of green peaches. As I recall, there was a lot of severe pain and a goodly amount of diarrhea. Mother was sure that my appendix were ready to burst and she was trying to find a ride to the hospital when one of my dear sisters reported that the "Peaches are ready cause Louella ate a whole bunch of them today." There went any salvation I had of getting rid of this stomach ache in any way but letting the green peaches work their way through my system.
Odd part of this whole tale is even today Peaches are my favorite fruit. And when the harvest comes in from the western slope, namely Palisade, I am in hog heaven. Or should I say Peach heaven? If ever there was a food fit for the Gods, it is a nice ripe, juicy sweet Palisade Peach. I have heard that a Georgia Peach is the best fruit on earth, but give me a western slope peach any day.
I have come a long way from the ragged little urchin eating green peaches, nursing sick calves and burying birds under the neighbors tree, but that little girl still lives in the recesses of my mind with the tattle tale sisters and the ornery big brother. I have heard it said that you can not go home, but I am just not sure I ever left. I am many miles from that ramshackle house on Strong Street in Nickerson, Kansas, but in the blink of an eye I am up in that Peach tree, or in the hay loft jumping out into the hay pile, or shucking corn in the field behind the house. Memory is a wonderful thing.
Ah, but the Peach tree I am thinking of today was back in Nickerson, Kansas, 60 years ago. It was out the back door and across the drive. It had probably been a seed that was thrown down and grew to adult hood hanging over the back of the shed. It seemed to be the only fruit tree that I recall, except for the Mulberry tree that kept our feet dyed purple all summer. ( And for the record, the birds all pooped purple that time of year.)
But back to the Peach tree. In Kansas we had better luck with things not freezing in the spring and that Peach tree was no exception! It did not fascinate the other kids nearly as much as it did me. I would wait for the blooms to dry up and then search for signs of fruit. I was always rewarded at some point in time with tiny peaches "setting on". Now trust me here...if you have ever lived in a small town, you know that there is not a lot to do. We could lay in the weeds and spy on the neighbors, chase the chickens, walk around the block, or we could watch those peaches growing. Mother was forever telling me, "You don't be eating those until they are big and change color. You will have the worst belly ache of your life."
Well, now that was like throwing gas on the fire. The more she cautioned me, the more I could taste that peach. (Oh, mother, if you are looking down on me, I do not blame you in any way. You tried to save me from myself )
The cemetery was about a quarter of a mile from our house and that was another favorite place to play. I remember once flying a kite and it got loose and sailed over the cemetery, but the string caught in a tree. It was too high up for me to climb and get it loose so I had to leave it. The next day it was crashed and broken. So much for the kite.
Mother always planted a garden and one of the main things she grew was Yams. She planted them on top of furrows and ran water down the ditches. I remember once it was my job to run the water and I was standing on a board watching the water run in and a big spider ran up my leg and I killed him on my knee. I have always been terrified of spiders and that did not help me get over it either.
Back to the Peach tree. I controlled myself pretty well, but when the peaches were about the size of a small tangerine, I thought I could see a hint of color on them. Had to hold it up to the light and turn it this way and that, but, yes it was a little less green on this side. So I bit into it. The first bite was not near as sweet as I thought it should be, so I took another bite and then picked another peach in case it was sweeter and had another bite or two. To make a long story short, I am here to tell you that my mother was dead on about the effects of green peaches. As I recall, there was a lot of severe pain and a goodly amount of diarrhea. Mother was sure that my appendix were ready to burst and she was trying to find a ride to the hospital when one of my dear sisters reported that the "Peaches are ready cause Louella ate a whole bunch of them today." There went any salvation I had of getting rid of this stomach ache in any way but letting the green peaches work their way through my system.
Odd part of this whole tale is even today Peaches are my favorite fruit. And when the harvest comes in from the western slope, namely Palisade, I am in hog heaven. Or should I say Peach heaven? If ever there was a food fit for the Gods, it is a nice ripe, juicy sweet Palisade Peach. I have heard that a Georgia Peach is the best fruit on earth, but give me a western slope peach any day.
I have come a long way from the ragged little urchin eating green peaches, nursing sick calves and burying birds under the neighbors tree, but that little girl still lives in the recesses of my mind with the tattle tale sisters and the ornery big brother. I have heard it said that you can not go home, but I am just not sure I ever left. I am many miles from that ramshackle house on Strong Street in Nickerson, Kansas, but in the blink of an eye I am up in that Peach tree, or in the hay loft jumping out into the hay pile, or shucking corn in the field behind the house. Memory is a wonderful thing.
