As I took this photo, I couldn’t help but think of my northern friend, Joy (maybe because she loves our pecans so much). I know that doesn’t make a lot of sense. Maybe this will: When I was young, I was the one who had to climb the peach tree and pick the ripest peaches near the top. You haven’t lived until you have picked peaches on a hot Georgia afternoon and come away covered in peach fuzz! Not too many people “pick” their own peaches any more. Most wade through the produce shelves at the grocery store hoping to find peaches that are not too green or badly bruised. I’m glad I have a “peach pickin” memory tucked away in my thoughts. Still, these days, I’m also just as happy to stop by a local grower and purchase fresh peaches that have been either picked from his orchard that day or a day earlier.
There is nothing to compare to a sweet summer Georgia peach except maybe a peach from South Carolina. Still, Georgia peaches are the best and maybe, I’m just partial. Below is a photo of a basket of Georgia Belles. Cut one of these open and you’ll discover they are different. They are white and oh, so sweet!