The aroma of fresh peaches in the orchard was intoxicating when my husband and I took our 8-year-old grandson peach picking at The Powerlines U-Pick (on Northeast 18th Street in Vancouver) on a sunny August afternoon two years ago.
I was amazed to read the sign at the check-out table that read, “Ground-fall peaches 50 cents/lb. CASH ONLY.”
What a bargain, but the only cash we had between us was $9 and change. I rationalized that some of the sweetest and best peaches can be found on the soft, grassy ground beneath the trees, and began scanning for peaches that were deeply orange but firm and relatively unscathed.
There were plenty to choose from. While I meandered, filling my basket, my grandson Theo just stood at the end of a row looking bewildered.
“Hey, Theo come on over,” I said. “Find the good peaches with me. This is fun.”
“Grandma, I don’t want to pick up the peaches that are on the ground.”
“What? How come?”
“The ground is dirty. They’re dirty,” he whined. “I don’t want to pick up dirty peaches with bugs on ’em.”
“Well, we will wash them when we get home. Look, there are some really nice peaches here.” I grabbed a large, golden, perfect peach and held it up to show him. “Mmmmmm, delicious! You’re going to love my peach cobbler.”
Theo just shrugged, turned away and walked toward Grandpa, who was taking close-up photos of yellow jackets feasting on a smooshed ground-fall peach.
I picked more peaches than I intended to, but we had enough cash to cover it. And despite Theo’s objections at the orchard, he had no problem asking for seconds and thirds of the fresh peach cobbler I made that evening.
Last month I was back at the orchard for early morning picking to avoid the crowd. Just me this time.
I was surprised. There were a dozen early morning pickers already in line at the check-out table. An woman about my age was pushing a heavy wheelbarrow piled high with large golden peaches. I complimented her on her beautiful bounty and asked where she had picked this morning.
“Everyone is picking right next to the parking lot but if you walk down the road a ways, to aisle No, 28, you can pick Veteran peaches. They are the best!”
She held up a golden, rosy-pink peach. I stepped closer to smell its peachy-sweet fragrance. She told me she comes here every year and reminded me that the ground-fall peaches are still only 50 cents a pound.
I thanked her and headed my wheelbarrow down the gravel road in the direction of aisle No. 28, about a block away. No other peach-pickers were in sight. The trees were heavy with large, golden peaches and many ground-falls under each tree.
It didn’t take me long to find enough firm beauties to fill the baskets in my wheelbarrow. I was in peach paradise!
Pushing the heavy wheel barrow back up the road was challenging. I was a little nervous arriving at the checkout because I had brought only $30 cash and I had picked a lot of peaches.
The check-out lady weighed my peaches and declared, “59 pounds and 6 ounces. That will be $30.”
What a relief! What a bargain! And what a pile of peaches to process!
So happy to have delicious fresh peaches again this year — for cobbler, crisp, pie and oatmeal. Despite my grandson’s opinion, some of the best peaches really can be found on the ground.
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