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Jenny Jordan's avatar

My dad: "don't touch the car!" (he was an auto mechanic and aware of scratch risks from errant dirty hands and children's gear dragging along the car as we, his four kids, loaded and unloaded ourselves!)

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James Smith's avatar

Those are nice pictures of the lads. 😊🐾

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Evelyn C Walsh's avatar

Peach juice stains now forever in my head!

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Gina Burton's avatar

I haven’t had a really good peach yet this year. Still on the hunt!

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Seraphita's avatar

Peaches from Palisade in Colorado are to die for. They truck them over the mountains to the front range grocery stores. You can also find trucks parked around town with more peaches. 🍑 pie is life!

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Barb G's avatar

Beautiful reflection and true!

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JoAnn Hamrick's avatar

We planted a couple of peach trees in our orchard here last year. One of them was old enough to produce fruit but we only got 2 peaches from it, one for each of us. Which is better that the pear tree. Last year it was laden down with fruit. This year we had a harvest of 1 pear. But I do have to say both peaches were of the juice rolling down your face variety. I have to wait a year now but I know your family’s warning will be ringing in my ear when the season comes around again!

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Kim Hamblin's avatar

I think Charlie posted one or two of these the other day 💜💜Sweetie boys

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Nila Vehar's avatar

This summer peaches have been especially juicy and delicious. Happy to have many dark tee shirts. I can still hear my mom say “peach juice stains.” Auggie and Eli need not worry about peach stains. They are handsome, happy and ready for play time.

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jane's avatar

Hope springs eternal for Augie. I admire him and I am

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jane's avatar

Going to try to be more like him.

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Judy Monaco's avatar

Hilarious story. How wonderful to have such stories in your family that you can all relate to and have a good laugh, while enjoying a tasty peach. 🍑 I’m sure Auggie and Eli don’t mind licking up any peach juice that might escape either.

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JoAnn DiPaula's avatar

Today you brought a tear to my eye but a smile to my face reminding me once again of my Dad’s love of peaches🥰 I can see his big grin and hear his laugh as he took that first bite of the peach he had just pulled off the stem from one of the dwarf peace trees in our backyard. He laughed as the juice ran down his chin, waving away my mother’s caution- “peach juice stains!” He just winked at me and reached for another peach. Yep, memories are good, good memories are precious gifts! Thanks once again for stirring some of mine🥰

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Gundy Walton's avatar

For next year - Tree Ripe Peaches from Georgia are sold off the back end of big trucks. They have designated locations all around the MKE area and suburbs where they go to sell. Established business, been doing this for many years. They now go interstate too, many markets formed over the years, extremely popular. Based out of Johnson Creek.

Get on their mailing list to receive seasonal catalog/info and plan for all their “chin dripping”fruits and nut sales. Google TREE RIPE FRUIT.

** Personal observation and takeaway - buy early on their schedule. Those “first pick” peaches are the best, rather than tail end crop.

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J. F. Riordan's avatar

I know them well

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Lori Olson White's avatar

What a perfect example of generational language! I actually keep a family dictionary of words and phrases we use - some that have been passed down, but also new ones coined by my grands like “banana hair” (you know, that stringy stuff that sticks to the edible fruit?) As for the passed down words, I’ve been able to trace several of them back at least four generations as they’re used across different family lines.

Just another way we tell stories and stay connected, often without even realizing it. Thanks for the reminder.

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Gary R. Eddings's avatar

😅😅 My mother was an eccentric Okie hard core Baptist who had "dizzy spells"; my oldest brother and some friends found a trove of empty beer cans from a store display (no recycling back then), and brought them to our house for a contest to see who could crush a can between thumb and fingers of one hand...leaving a pile of crushed cans on the dining table; meanwhile mom had retired to the couch to rest for "a spell".

Shortly after the boys left for other pursuits the preacher from mom's church knocked on the door in an unannounced "visit/recon mission", just to say Hi! Upon rising from her dizzy spell and wobbling to answer the door mom was confronted by the preacher's open mouth stare at the pile of beer cans on the table behind her, and his hastily muttering "Good Day Sibyl" as he retreated. "Mom's retelling of the tale became family legend.

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Barbara Beliveau's avatar

I am 71 years old and I cannot eat a peach without hearing my mom and my maternal grandmother saying that!

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