Im-peached

   One of my favorite foods is a nice ripe juicy peach.  Finding one is as difficult as the hunt for the golden apple in Minecraft.  Peaches have a short growing season in this part of the country, and those are the only peaches worth eating.  My mother used to delight in planting things, including fruit trees.  She had planted 2 sour cherry trees that on maturity yielded large crops of their fruit each summer; the cherry-laden boughs  were widely admired by the customers who used to frequent Sara's store, and their compliments often resulted in their leaving with a generous  offering of cherries. 
    My mother also planted a peach tree on the side of the house, though winter conditions were not ideal for that type of tree, and eventually it fell victim to a severe freeze.  But not before it yielded, in what was to be its final year, a one-time crop of the finest peaches I've ever tasted.  The tree grew for several years before its eventual demise, but for most of its life, it bore no fruit.  I was teaching in Cambridge then, and kept my car parked on the side of the house next to the vacant building next door.  One day, as I was backing out of the driveway, I spotted something in the peach tree------three perfect golden peaches.  I stopped and gathered them up, and was privileged, over the next few days, to partake of the most delectable flavors I'd ever experienced.
    Each year, I try to replicate that experience, and a few times I've come close, but the ultimate "golden apple hunt" is ever elusive.  This year, I've bought peaches about half a dozen times,  usually only a few at a time because I'm  so accustomed to the disappointment.  If I have had in my house a dozen fresh peaches this summer, only about one-fourth of them have been worth eating.  The best were probably presented as a gift from my brother-in-law.  Most of the others were duds. 
    Today I went to a local orchard to buy apples, a once-upon-a-time tradition.  I was pleasantly surprised that they were also advertising peaches.  I saw them in the cooler, in baskets.  I asked the clerk how the peaches were, if they were juicy; she said they were good, she liked them.  I bought a small basket of them;  the clerk told me to refrigerate them as they were ready to eat.  As soon as I got home, I washed a peach, and brought it outside to eat in the waning sunlight.  I also brought a small paring knife (I don't like to bite into fuzzy skin) and a dish towel to soak up the juice. I sat on the deck, spread the towel on my lap, and sliced off a piece of the peach with my knife.  I bit into a piece of Styrofoam.  This can't be. I tried again: desiccated fiberboard.  I took my paring knife and stabbed the peach until it was mutilated--it bled not a drop of juice.  I threw its body down the bank behind the house.  More mayhem undoubtedly awaits.