Saturday, January 28, 2012

writing exercise one-b: make writing livelier

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.
     I grew up in Florida, but my maternal grandparents were Georgians. I've mentioned before our family's penchant for linking travel and food.
     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. 
     Ahhh, euphoria. The blush-colored inside winks knowingly at me and my grown-up heart melts. I am transported back to barefoot days and carefree thoughts. Dishes and laundry can wait... the backyard swing is calling my name.

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