I had a peach for breakfast. It was a Pennsylvania peach. I am sure they are as good in many other places when left to ripen and then eaten soon. A classic freestone variety.

The skins pealed away nicely in long and broad swatches. There was no necessity to actuality cut away the fuzzy covering with a knife. To tell the truth, I have eaten the skins fuzz and all. Not bad, and I am certain it added to my minimum daily requirement of roughage.

But back to this particular peach. After it was pealed it popped away from the stone nicely and it should be noted that juice was dripping off my fingers as I cut the halves into bite sized pieces.

I considered sprinkling a dash of sugar on the already sweet morsels, and though given pause to do so, I decided to forego the addition in favor of the slightly tart sweetness of the just right ripeness of the peach.

My mouth, already awash, was ready for that first bite that I slowly moved around with tongue and chewed with an almost sensuous pleasure. What am I saying? It was completely sensuous.

I shut my eyes to visions of gentle rain and warm summer sunshine – the magic that produces such a magnificent creation.

I have one more for tomorrow. Then there are tomatoes from the garden. I only hope I can hold up beneath the strain.

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