I over-picked the peaches. In fact, I don’t even know how many I picked, only that there are 25 left. Already I’ve grilled them, put them in baked oatmeal and ate two this morning alone. Tonight, there were 33 staring at me from the table, ripening rapidly. Four people divided by 33 equals 8.25 peaches apiece. It didn’t seem possible.
In a baking frenzy, I dispatched with eight. Six went into a yummy cobbler (though not the awesome cobbler that I use when I have an abundance of berries), and two went into my top-secret muffin recipe.
Now I have a cobbler and 21 muffins. And 25 peaches.
It would be ridiculous if weren’t a tradition of sorts. When my husband and I moved to DC from Michigan in 2004, we headed up to Homestead Farm, 50 minutes away in Poolesville, MD. It is a fantastic pick-your-own farm, and we picked so many apples that I was begging relatives to eat them. That trip spawned homemade donuts.
The next year it was blackberries. I was nearly nine months pregnant, sweating like mad, and going bonkers with the delicious berries. Cobbler, muffins and a pregnant appetite dispatched with those pretty quickly.
And so on, and so on – and so on. Last year, I hit the apples once again, and used the yield to master pie-making with much success and help from the little ones.
My crazed fruit-picking has become our family tradition. While we joke about the bounty, we’re making loads of memories. It’s a good thing we burn a lot of energy around here. Enjoy the pics, made more beautiful by Instagram.