When we first moved into this house, four years ago in May, there was a little bush in the corner of the yard, near the deck. I didn't know what it was until the end of the summer, when it put on some teensy-weensy peaches. There were lots of them but they were about the size of walnuts. Harvesting them was useless, since there wasn't much more to each of them than fuzzy skin stretched over a pit.
Each summer I've checked the fruit, and it was the same - not worth picking; one summer it didn't even put on any fruit. But this year . . . voila! I have real peaches. They are tennis ball size. Saturday, I went out and picked a few. They didn't look quite ripe, but they were falling off the tree, so I thought a taste-test was in order. I cut into one and we sampled it. JUICY and SWEET! The ones that have already fallen on the ground won't go to waste, either, because the cottontail bunnies that frequent our yard have already discovered them.
[I snapped a quick shot of this baby cottontail resting in the back yard last evening, after feasting on peaches (not a very good photo, I know).]
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