Hubby’s been wanting peaches. Not the run-of-the-mill peaches we can buy at our local grocer.


He wanted the peaches that had just been picked off the tree and were waiting for us to pick up in bushel boxes at the orchard. Peaches that are so huge and juicy that they take both hands and a roll of paper towels to eat.

Peaches that are grown almost two hours away in a hill country town called Stonewall.

So we drove up to Stonewall yesterday morning.

The drive was a peaceful one. I was in my melancholy mood of the last several days so I didn’t really want to talk. Although it’s the middle of July, the hill country is still green thanks to all the rain we’ve had. There was a lot to look at, so it really was alright that hubby & I didn’t talk while we drove.

The last leg of our journey took us through the quiet little town of Johnson City.

We noticed bunches of flowers tied to signs & poles lining the highway as we entered town. It was at that moment we realized that we were driving the same route that Ladybird’s funeral procession had driven less than 24 hours before.

Melancholy moods are ripe for tears and I choked them back for the next several miles as we passed pole after pole decorated with flowers in honour of the former First Lady.

As we wound through the town, I thought about her legacy and her grandchildren. One grandchild in particular because I worked with him for almost two years at the last law firm I worked at before starting my career as an educator. This gentleman was intense and highly focused when he was hammering out a deal. Although it was almost ten years ago, I remember that he looked like the spitting image of his grandfather and was as gentle in spirit as I had heard his grandmother to be.

The decorated sign posts began to dwindle the further we drove from Johnson City. Several ranch entrances on the way out to the Johnson ranch were draped with American flags and red, white, and blue bunting. Small, yet graceful gestures of a community paying respects to one of their own.

Hubby was starting to get concerned because signs for Fredricksburg were becoming more frequent and we still hadn’t found “our” peach stand yet. I told him Stonewall was just a bit further up the road and we’d be there soon.

Turns out, our peach stand was just on the other side of the Johnson property. We drove up the dusty drive and realized that this was the same place we had found a couple years ago when we were headed home from Fredricksburg. Those peaches then were wonderful and we knew we were in for another great treat. We headed inside, looked around, realized we were the ONLY customers at that time, scurried over to the bushel boxes and started inhaling the sweet smell of fresh, just brought in out of the warm Texas sun ecstasy! We didn’t buy a bushel box (too expensive) but we did buy enough peaches to share with his parents & mine and headed for home.

After paying for our prizes, hubby & I each held a precious orb in our hands as we headed back down the drive that connected to the highway.

As we passed the entrance to the Johnson ranch, I raised my fruit in salutation, nodded in respect, and took a bite.

How’d it taste? Let me put it this way …

There’s a little bit of heaven in every bite of a Stonewall peach.

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