I don’t know about you, but at this point I am so far into the lockdown groove it’s starting to feel more like a trench. A trench that gets a little deeper every week. I know, I know, I have nothing to complain about. Just sayin’ there are moments here and there where I find myself stuck at the corner of those streets called Ennui and Inertia.
132 days since we’ve seen a family member face to face. Who knew that when we hugged Daniel goodbye that day in March that it was the last hug for – who knows how long?
Four trips canceled so far. No New Orleans and Nashville in April. No Hawaii in July. NYC in September looking like a no-go. Even a proposed jaunt to Newport Beach nipped in the bud when our governor put the brakes on last week. Things have gotten to the point that I’ve almost been forced to contemplate cleaning out a closet. Luckily, crisis averted: we baked instead!
I can’t remember the last time we were home for four months straight, so for the first time in forever I’ve been paying mind to what goes on in our little orchard. Our latest little stick of a peach tree did its valiant best to produce this year.
And with all this time on my hands, I decided to to try to outsmart the birds and the snails that usually pick off the peaches before they ripen. I managed to harvest just enough
for one awesome peach crisp:
The peaches are done now, though, so that potential closet clean is looming large. Thank goodness the plums are beginning to ripen – anyone have a recipe to share?