
I've jokingly recounted that I ate more peaches on this trip than I had in my entire life previously. Now this is probably untrue, and virtually unprovable. Unless we go to my mother and ask just how often she bought the little Gerber peach mush, or added slices of the fruit to my Rice Krispies. I do realize that peaches aren't really "European". In fact, the day after I returned to America I had a peach and remarked, "Damn, this is twice as good as the best one I had over there." But they were excellent, healthy snacks for an on-the-go-hungry-man-about-town so I scooped them up by the kilo. Or perhaps I had an inkling that a certain vivacious character would be nicknamed after them. A Season For Peaches indeed.
