Assignment: Describe eating a piece of fruit
Each year as summer approaches, I gleefully anticipate arrival of the season's stone fruit. Living in the coastal south, my proximity to Georgia and South Carolina peach orchards stirs long-held passions deep within my soul.
This meant trekking northward during the humid, peach-ripening months to cart bushel boxes home to share. To this day when eating a ripe, rosy peach, a flood of special memories wash over me.
Eyes closed, I inhale the floral and spice notes, feeling the softness of the fuzzy skin against my lips. As my teeth gently pierce the surface, a sticky-sweet stream of nectar trickles slowly toward the underside of my chin.
I am Peach Mountain during the spring thaw. Gravity urges the juice downward. My elbow drips like a slippery rock jutting over a waterfall. Plip, plop. Plip, plop.
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