I have enough peaches left for a couple of pies. They're going in the oven in the morning, and that will be the end of the peach holiday here.

It has been delightful this year.

The other day, I was reading from Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver as Olivia was having her viola lesson. I started to read it on recommendation from a friend, and I'm not sure yet how I feel about it. More than anything else, this book just increases my longing for real seasons, dark black soil, and a few months of good frost. I'll be honest...that longing has even verged on lust and yearning.

Her chapter on asparagus had me practically panting and reminded me of being fifteen and reading a lusty romantic paperback. And all this while my daughter is slowly learning "Hot Cross Buns" on the other side of the door.

But this little paragraph reminded me of our recent torrid peach frenzy and so I thought I'd share it. She writes,

"But there's a simpler reason to pass up off-season asparagus: it's inferior. Respecting the dignity of a spectacular food means enjoying it at its best. Europeans celebrate the short season of asparagus as a form of holiday."

"At our house we only eat asparagus for the weeks it's in season, but during those weeks we eat it a lot--the spears must be cut every day. About the same time the asparagus plant is getting weary of our management plan, we're starting to feel the same way. It works out.

It does work out. Today when I offered peaches and cream for snack, my kids asked for mint chocolate chip ice cream instead.

And so we're moving on. There are other holidays on the horizon after all. But this was a great one, as minor holidays go. Really, really great.