Almost peachy

To someone who lives in Georgia or in BC's Okanagan, our tiny peach tree would be a joke. But here in the Lower Mainland -- or at least in our little yard -- it's a treasure. This year, it has a whopping big crop of nine (admittedly undersized) peaches.

And I figure that's good enough to qualify as peachy. As it turns out, there are a few phrases based on glorifying this luscious fruit, some weirder, some punnier, some more profound than others. (Can anything based on the description of a fruit be profound? Probably not.)

Even though they're getting nice and rosy, they're still too hard to want to pick and eat. But I'm trusting it won't be long -- and also that they'll be at least as good as last week's little crop of three golden plums. Those were so juicy, we had to eat them outside. I ate mine over top of a plant in a pot, and pretty well managed to water it with the drippings.