Picking peaches

A couple of years ago an extended family friend and arborist pruned our peach tree back to a manageable size and so prevented the branches from snapping with the weight of the Peaches. The peaches were plentiful and perfect that summer, and I remember all of the peach poaching and pies, and especially all of the peachy desserts at my sister’s house on the cape for our family party that August.

What he recommended that year was continued light pruning and plucking every other peach from each branch. For the past two years I have pruned a bit and followed his suggestion, but the peaches have not been as perfectly sized and ripe as they were,  and have been bug eaten as well. Last year it produced  far fewer ripe peaches and I guess I was prepared for another disappointing year this year. What I heard somewhere was that for the first few years the critters don’t discover the garden soil and or fruit producing trees, but that  each subsequent year more and more spraying may be required.

Spraying is not something I do, not because I’m opposed to a good organic dose of bug killer, but because I’m just not up to the task. And I’ve decided that whatever ripe peaches there are will be the ones I will be satisfied with picking.

Here it is early July and the peaches abound. Every day I remove as many as I can reach, leaving only the ones that face the sun and look promising, however the branches are still over-ladened and  in some cases resting on the ground. Fortunately, there is a Hosta/Day Lily garden beneath which will accept rotting peaches without complaint, otherwise Tanner would make himself sick. I remember when Fargo discovered the Cherry Tomato plants and picked off the ripe ones one by one, leaving only the green ones. When I caught him finally, I covered them with a fine netting to keep him from contracting Tomatoitis!  Tanner is of the same ilk–every time we walk by the peach tree on our way down the driveway for a walk, we have to wrestle a little peach from his mouth.

In the meantime, my fingers are crossed. This summer may be peachy.

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