There’s really nothing quite like spending time on a farm on
a hot summer day – especially when it gets you back to the town you grew up in
for 20 years.
The weather finally cooperated with my month-long plans to
go peach picking this past Sunday (shout out to the rain on Saturday that
forced me to start packing up my apartment for the impending move!), and I
dragged the boy out into the hot summer heat to pick us some peaches (and
raspberries – couldn’t resist).
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| Crazy plums! |
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| Holding my bags & iced coffee - he's pretty great, huh? |
As much as I love living in the city, I never feel quite as
relaxed when I spend my weekends walking city streets, or even on my beloved
Southie beach. The hum of AC units, shrill and unexpected horns, and the dull
roar of cars rolling by, always, doesn’t bother me at all during my day-to-day;
I don’t even realize it’s there until I’m standing in the middle of a field,
and the hum I’m hearing comes from bees circling bushes and crickets in tall
grass.
I’ll
always miss that as long as I’m living in Boston, and for it making me even
more grateful for suburban summer afternoons.
