The Peach Magnet

There seems to be something about me that attracts old men bearing peaches.

At Blackrock, it was our very elderly neighbor who dropped off baskets of peaches that I managed, despite a ten-month-old baby and two other children, to make into canned peaches and a LOT of peach puree for yogurt.

And now I have another ten-month-old baby and three other children, and there are more elderly men dropping off peaches.

The first to come by was Rafael, our most excellent produce supplier. He pulled up on Sunday in his white pick-up truck with a bucket of small yellow peaches from one of his trees. He told us he had picked 15 gallons, so we should take the whole bucket.

I had no problem with that.

Then this morning, another white pick-up truck* pulled up in front of the house, this time with Nick. Nick is also an older man who goes to our church. He lives a few blocks away in the village. He brought us a bag of slightly larger white peaches.

It appears we already have a reputation as people who will take excess produce. I'm fine with that reputation, especially if it results in ten pounds of free, delicious peaches.

* Never have I seen so many white pick-up trucks. It's become something of a running joke with me and A., all the white pick-up trucks driving slowly around. He tells me it's because the white ones are the cheapest heavy-duty trucks. I just think it looks like an episode of The Twilight Zone.