Only a slice remains of the sweet season when you enter the produce section of the grocery store and meet a pile of peaches! Buried in yogurt and granola or piled up beside my morning eggs, I do love myself a peach. It takes a minute and no more to add such abundance to my life, long enough to slice and then handwash the knife.
There are times when even the quick work of preparing a peach seems like too much. To slice up a peach would require too much time, so I don’t. And what a bummer, with peach season in North Dakota so short it’s the pits. (Your eyeroll is justified.)
If I tell myself there is not enough time to slice a peach, I am far too busy. If I tell myself there is not enough time to connect with a friend, take a short walk, read a few pages of a book, breathe a few deep breaths, look into the eyes of the family member speaking to me, or visit with my husband, I have let my life become too rushed.
On this side of 40, I might grow more aware of the needless things I do. Things, I hate to admit, no one would notice if I did not do them. When these needless things do not get done because I am “busy” slicing a peach, consuming the flavor of abundant life, all is peachy with my soul.
Lisa Lewton 