When we bought our house last year and Dick told us there was a peach tree in the backyard, I was skeptical.
“Poor guy’s losing his mind,” I said to Tara. “Peaches don’t grow in Wisconsin!”
Apparently, our peach tree never got that memo.
That’s just what we picked yesterday. We began a week ago. We had to; there was so much fruit it was beginning to weigh the branches down, and the bugs were starting to feast on them.
This still boggles my mind. The day we closed on our house, when Dick told us about the peaches, it was brutally cold and sleeting. It had gotten down to -14° the previous month. I assumed peaches needed a warmer climate. After all, they’re synonymous with Georgia, not the upper Midwest. We can grow cheese like nobody’s business, but peaches?!
We got about three dozen peaches last year, which was surprising enough. Ol’ Dick wasn’t yanking our chains after all! This year, it’s at least double that. We have more peaches than we know what to do with.
I’m not complaining. This is a good problem to have. Peaches are the best, and these are especially juicy, sweet, and delicious. We’ll figure out how to use them up, I’m sure. My mom suggested making a peach pie and freezing it. My mom happens to love peach pie, and my parents are coming out for a visit next month, so she may have ulterior motives in mind. Rather crafty woman, that one.
After yet another stormy stretch…check out this shot from our back deck on Sunday evening…
…the past couple of days have been downright perfect. No heat. No humidity. It’s actually been cooler than normal for a change (mid-70s) with nary a drop of rain. With all the severe storms and constant flooding we’ve experienced, we’ve earned this pleasant run of weather.
I worked in the Madison office yesterday, so I drove to Olin-Turville Park on my lunch hour and had a one-man picnic. Like, sitting down at an actual picnic table and everything. A gentle breeze blew off the lake, puffy clouds dotted the blue sky, and everything was lush and green. It felt absolutely idyllic. I could have stayed there all afternoon, but alas, the state ain’t gonna run itself.
(Haha. I don’t actually run the state of Wisconsin. The governor helps out, too.)
I’m sure this nice weather won’t last forever – there’s still a lot of summer left – so we have to take advantage while we can. We were going to go out on Friday evening, but I suggested hanging out on the deck instead. Comfy chairs, cold drinks, good tunes, and fireflies after dark? Doesn’t get any better than that.
Even Laverne and Shirley agree.
They have come to love deck time, and it’s a great way to let them outside safely. It keeps them contained and is much too high for them to jump from. I even bought a Thermacell to keep the mosquitoes at bay.
It’s a rechargeable device that heats up an odorless repellent cartridge to create a 20-foot “bubble” of protection from mosquitoes. I was skeptical at first, much like with Dick’s peaches, but damned if it doesn’t actually work. It’s supposedly less effective on windy days, but we’ve used it a few times now and I have yet to get bitten.
As keen as mosquitoes are to devour my blood at every opportunity, I can only conclude that the Thermacell utilizes some kind of sorcery to repel the winged bloodsuckers.
Mark My Words 
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