There is nothing like an early August peach. Georgia rightly claims to be amazing, but Pennsylvania has some of the best.
Sweet and juicy, obvious adjectives.
Yet, wholly inadequate.
The peach overwhelmed my primary senses of sight and sound. For a moment, taste and smell and touch were in focus.
I don’t have the words for the flavor beyond “sweet”. It’s just “peach.” That should evoke a flavor if you’ve ever tasted one. I wonder if the failing of my words is also why Inuit have so many words for snow.
For the sensation of touch experienced by my tongue, gums, teeth, jaw, and roof of my mouth, juicy gives way to squish, squirt and gush. Softness. Fuzz. Gentle. Sensual. The ten year old inside snickers. All of these adjectives evoke sex.
I’ve eaten at least 10 peaches this week, two a day for the last five days. One of my favorite times of year.
A Sense Of 