As we age, our memories become “interesting.” For example, I can remember things from my early childhood but can’t think of an old friend’s name.
Growing up, I had two living grandparents. Both had been born in the late 1860s. My maternal grandmother was very much a “proper Victorian lady.” She lived with my aunt and didn’t visit us that much, while my paternal grandfather was totally different. He loved to work in our gardens and, while he could, liked to walk. I spent as much time with him as possible. He taught my mother how to cook and helped her a lot. He stayed with us often.
I remember many “adventures” with my grandfather. At this time of the year, one memory always returns. He’d peel and pit peaches for my mother. Along with the peaches, he had two containers, one for the skins and stones, the other for the cut-up fruit. He would give me as many peach pieces as I wanted. And, I recall lots of bees walking around on the backs of his hands while he cut the peaches. I knew they could sting. I asked why he let them stay. His answer was, “If you don’t hurt them, they won’t hurt you.”
My mother served those peaches mixed with sugar and whipped cream. We always had a milking cow and plenty of milk and cream. She learned how to whip the cream. I recall the only thing I felt was “wrong” was the added sugar. The peaches were sweet enough without it. Fresh peaches still are a favorite.
My aunt would come for peaches to take home. The next day, she’d return with a couple of peach pies. I remember how wonderful they tasted. In later years, my mother learned how to make peach pies. But they weren’t quite the same as those first ones.
Enjoy and stay safe!
If you have suggestions or questions for this column, please contact me directly at guthrielarason@verizon.net.
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