Fruits

     The weather today was beautiful, so after I stopped at the bank, my "schedule" was clear, so I decided to drive up Route 40. For a number of years I drove that route at least 3 times a week without thinking much about the drive, but today the road seemed endless. Maybe it's because I have no destination, I told myself, so I decided on a trip to Hand Melons.
   When I went into the store, the woman behind the desk told me melon season has ended. (Tell that to my homegrown watermelon, pictured in the last photo. It must think it's still early summer.) She did have a type of melon, down behind the apple counter. So I walked past the apples and saw these melons, about the size of  water-saturated softballs. She said they're called honeysuckle or something like that, a cutesy name. Very sweet, she said. So I invested in one, and also bought a couple of peaches, which I know are doomed to the garbage. I haven't seen an edible peach in at least 2 years, and I strongly suspect these, while pretty in appearance, are pithy to the taste.
  Once home, I cut open the little melon, eager to taste it. It was sweet, or sweetish in a cloying way, I'll grant her that. At first, it seemed it might be rather refreshing, but that feeling soon gave way to, "I don't want any more of this." Never one to give up easily, I resorted to the treatment my father and sister always did---sprinkled salt on it. That helped, but it wasn't exactly a gourmet dining experience. Tomorrow, I'll try to "eat a peach" as the poet wrote.
     The tomatoes are a product of Andrew's 6th grade science lab experience, but I have no lettuce or bacon or the soft white bread I'd need for a BLT.
     Hope is the essence.