Nana and Peaches

This time of year when peaches are in season, it always reminds me of my memories of Nana and peaches.  I remember living at the Bower place and it was September.  School was already started, but the weather was still warm.  After walking down the long dusty lane from the main road where the school bus dropped us off, Sharon and Wayne and I (Bill was not in school yet) saw Nana sitting on the long porch on the side of the battered house, peeling a gigantic bushel of plump fuzzy peaches. 

Each year, Nana bought a bushel of peaches to put in canning jars for the winter. Money was scarce so each peach was precious.  We begged her for a taste of those sunny yellow juicy pieces of fruit.  I can still taste the slippery flesh of the ripe peach and remember the sticky juice running down my arm.  Come winter, we were grateful for Nana's work at peeling and canning the peaches in quart mason jars. When we ate the preserved fruit swimming in a thick sugary syrup, it was like the pleasure of that September day all over again.