it looks like we'll have peaches this year! after four seasons one of our peach trees is flourishing and seems strong enough to hold onto her fruit. during the past years all it would take was a good rain, the subtlest of winds, or even an accidental bump to send the small peaches falling to the ground. this year, though, the peaches continue growing in size, transforming in color, and keep hangin' on.
as the seasons before, our second tree, the much smaller of the two, began to fruit and then lost her hold on them. i don't think she is getting enough sun so we're going to move her this fall to a place where it will be more accessible for her to soak in the sun's life-giving energy. i'm hopeful though. her leaves are beautiful and she flowers and fruits every year, she's just not strong enough, yet.
soon after my grandparents from Sicily married my grandfather planted a peach tree in the front yard of their home in Detroit. i loved that peach tree. as a child i reaped the utmost joy from picking the peaches and devouring them in all their goodness while sitting under the tree embraced by its shade. it was such a luxury. during the drive home from my grandparents' place i would fixate on the prickly moustache that the peaches always left behind. i would rub my tongue across it incessantly, and smile inside and out.
my grandfather and i were never very close. in fact, i can't recall a single conversation that i ever had with him. my memories of him are more like mere observances, almost like i had had a series of out of body experiences. he rarely talked, but often yelled. sadly, i don't think that he was close to anyone~ not his fourteen children, nor his even greater myriad of grandchildren, or even my grandmother- his wife of sixty years. he was stubborn, and aggressive, and a misogynist. i believe that he probably came from generations of men who confused being coarse, controlling, and combative as signs of strength. my grandmother was tender, giving, and obedient. she never yelled, but rarely talked.
honestly, i was frightened by my grandfather and when i was around him i just tried to stay out of his sight. the peach tree, though, gave me a sense of solace on our visits, and i would come to appreciate it, as well, for something that i wouldn't realize until i was older. i believe that the peach tree allowed me to be in touch with a more gentle and compassionate side of my grandfather. he cared deeply for that tree and it showed by the abundance of sweet fruit that it bestowed each year. that tree became symbolic to me of my grandfather's true nature, nurturing and loyal. he hid that side from everyone around him, i'm assuming because he thought it would make him vulnerable and deemed "unmanly", but i know that he found his own sense of solace in that peach tree, too.
it's been twenty-five years since my grandfather passed on. soon after his passing his beautiful peach tree succumbed to a disease and had to be chopped down. even though i was young i made the connection. when i decided to add fruit trees to our little homestead i never hesitated with my choice. though my grandfather was so guarded and unwilling to open himself up to love i am eternally grateful to have been able to know him and receive his love by way of the most delightful fruit. the peach tree has come to remind me that there is some goodness in everyone, it has taught me patience and empathy. my grandfather's tree also taught me that if you put love and mindfulness into something it will manifest those attributes in multitudes by its fruit, and those fruits will be available for others to harvest. i am grateful that the universe works this way, and i often meditate on the peach tree.
