Just Peachy

I have tendencies to impulse purchase, Reader. I try hard to curb them, because I also aspire to KonMari the eff out of my life, and like to tout that there are no physical things I even need in my world, I have enough of everything.

Yet.

I still seem to manage to buy things. Take for instance Prime Day.  If I don’t need anything, why was every day since last Wednesday Christmas Day at Chez Bang Bang??

I don’t have an answer for you, either.

What I do have are several Alexa’s, an Echo, a Sonicare toothbrush, a new cat litter box, another aromatherapy diffuser, and the most-needed item, a Cordaroy’s bean bag chair that converts into a full sized bed. Because who doesn’t need that, Reader?? It was on Shark Tank. It must be good.

So that’s unfurling in the upstairs bedroom, just in case at some point in our lives we need more sleeping space than the guest bedroom can provide. Like a boy scout, I like to be prepared.

Which is why it seemed only natural that when I was stopping in to Whole Foods for lunch several months ago (when I was at my old job) the trees at the front of the entrance stopped me in my tracks.  Fruit Trees?? For $19.99? Of course I need an orchard!  And after careful selection I decided I needed to grow my own peaches because I love peaches and won’t it be great to go out and pick my own peaches and make cobblers and jams, like a homesteader.

My tree had several small fruits on it when I purchased it. I kept it on my deck so I could monitor my harvest, and keep it watered and away from the ravenous deer that eat all my foliage and flowers in the yard.

Except something happened and all of the small peach buds fell off, except for one.

My Mister negatively predicted it would never amount to a real peach because the tree was too little.

Oh, he of little faith.

I watered and tended and fretted over the bugs that seemed to be eating my leaves.

And I grew a peach!

It had a tentative spot on the top, something was trying to get at it but I wanted to give it more incubation time.

This morning during my watering and nurturing session I noticed something – probably a bird – had decided to taste-test my dern peach. MINE, Bird, not yours.

So it was time to harvest.  One side was picture-peachy-perfect.

I cut out the birdie bite – only cutting myself twice with those Wusthof knives which are intent on taking a digit from me – and sliced it up in a bowl and enjoyed it on my patio this morning.

And that’s what a $20 peach looks like, and it was juicy and ripe, made only sweeter by the fact that I grew this peach myself. I think I’m now officially considered a farmer, Reader. Farmer Bang Bang. Peach Grower. Cat Wrangler. Living the untidy dream.

*p.s., several Alexa’s are for gifting occasions. I’m not just a selfish shopper. I’m also a giver. Except of my lone peach, which I shared with no one. Except that bird.