"She brought how many pounds of peaches?"
How many is too many? My cousin's husband Christian is well known to love Pennsylvania peaches. I know, Georgia is supposed to be the Peach State, but Pennsylvania peaches are so much better than New England and German peaches that he fell in love. When my family still lived in southern York County, Pennsylvania, he and my cousin Gwen would time their visits for peach season. When we came up to Maine in August, he would always request peaches, and Mum would bring them in her special peach box, labeled Pat's Peach Box in thick black Sharpie, and originally obtained housing a shipment of genuine Florida oranges. When my parents moved to Maine, Christian was devastated. No more Pennsylvania peaches! So when Christian got a job in York, Pennsylvania, there was nothing for it but to send Pat's Peach Box back to Pennsylvania with Christian and Gwen.
So when Auntie Viv flew down to Maryland to pick up Mom's car that my sister had borrowed, and went to visit her daughter and grandson in York, they of course went peach picking! And, as Gwen put it, they just kept picking ... and picking ... and picking ... and picking ... until they had 138 pounds of peaches! And since Auntie Viv had only her small amount of luggage to bring back to Maine, she filled up the rest of the car with peaches.
And of course, when Auntie Viv called to say she had a hundred pounds of peaches, my mother said, "Well, you can't possibly eat them all before they go bad. They'll have to be canned!" And a couple days later, there was Auntie Viv on the phone again: "I'm coming on Thursday to can peaches!" Suffice it to say, it was a great drama, but in the end we canned maybe a quarter of Auntie Viv's peaches today. Here's Christian hard at work:
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| From Maine 2009 |
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