Pickers

As you come into the lane at Jackson Acres, there's the remnants of what used to be an apple and peach orchard.  When I was a kid, my cousins and I would sometimes help ourselves to ripe peaches in the summer.  There's nothing better than biting into a sun warmed fuzzy peach and having the juice run down your chin.

My grandmother and aunt would ask how we managed to get peach juice on our clothes when we hadn't been home.  We would just shrug and say we "found" some.

When the apples began ripening, we could be found up in the trees snacking on those.

 During games of hide and seek, my favorite place to hide was the apple tree next to Mr. Ingram's garage.  I'd climb up in there and sit safe like I was in a green cocoon.  When the apples started coming in, sometimes I would snack on those while I waited to be found. 

I often wish I could be back up in that tree lounging, snacking on extremely tart, sour, unripe Granny Smith's.  The world was much simpler back then.