I’ve spent the last two weeks praying at the altar of the High Holy Church of Texas Peaches. They are everywhere I turn. First, my friend Lori who owns land on the Brazos River tracked down a bushel of peaches from a neighbor’s orchard. She put up umpteen jars of peach jam with Jan and they even brought some to me. They ate peach this and peach that for an entire weekend.
Then my tribe and I wandered up to Clay County, a place of which I am increasingly enamored. Being there puts me a stone’s throw from my hometown of Wichita Falls. So on a Saturday morning I wandered over to the Wichita Falls Farmers Market and lo and behold, they were having a peach celebration. I was proud of this little market. It boasted about four produce vendors as there is apparently a strong clutch of farmers in the Thornberry/Charlie area, and the tables were laden with fresh Texas peaches. I bought a big basket of peaches, a watermelon and various other peppers and tomatoes, and went on my way. Sadly, I had missed the produce stand which pops up in Henrietta every Friday, I’m told. I’ll find all of them soon enough.
I love going home.