I’m going to miss summer fruit.
I live in the desert, so I never miss summer. I don’t look forward to her arrival and when summer leaves it takes all my lady-like manners not to flip her the bird.
But her fruit, I love her fruit. Peaches, all the different kinds of plums, nectaries, blackberries and watermelon. I’m serious about watermelon. Pretty sure if there was just a trace amount of protein in watermelon I could live on it.
Oranges are fine and I do look forward to all the apples and baking, but summer fruit is my favorite.
It’s funny how something can be so yuck, but make something so yum.
I am not a summer girl. I don’t even like the sun, which is weird because I’m a Leo. I should worship the sun. Yeah, no thanks.
I’ve never understood the allure of waterparks or hanging out at the pool. I don’t care how cute sundresses and flip flops are. Give me a sweater, a cup of tea, and storm clouds any day of the year. Summer is hot, greasy, sweaty and squinty. I don’t like wearing sunglasses, they pinch my nose.
But if it weren’t for summer, I wouldn’t have the fruit.
I look forward to the first peach of the year. The one that’s so juicy I need two napkins. Plums are one of my favorite fruits ever, and cherries are tiny little pieces of heaven. Pretty much anything with a pit and I’m in.
Summer is almost over. There are fewer and fewer peaches left on the stand and the big watermelon bin is not so big anymore. Summer will leave and take her fruit with her. Mornings will be chilly again, my sweaters will come back to life, and all will be right with the world. My tastebuds will be a little sad. They will miss summer fruit until next year, but I will never miss summer.
I suppose I could try to be nicer to her. Maybe next year I’ll be a little more tolerant. I could buy a cute summer hat or work on not cursing her when I burn my thighs on the seat of my car. It’s possible I could find a summer anthem, make sun tea, and slather on the stupid sunscreen.
I will work on smiling at summer next year. I’ll endure, push on, for the fruit.
My thoughts from the laundry room. Hot Flash.