Yesterday, while Jason took Audrey to the playground to practice her Tarzan yell and monkey bar skills, Nathan and I sat down to the table with a fresh mound of peaches. I put on music that reminds me of ocean breezes, sand sifting between my toes, and sunsets that fool one into thinking the day has just begun again. The skins piled up, striped in scarlet, pits the color of plums stacked at their edges. A cup of sugar, a little cornstarch, cinnamon, lemon juice, butter, and pie crust later, and we found ourselves here. With this peach cobbler. Somewhere between salt water and jungle vines: on summer's edge. Where goodness comes bubbling with peaches.
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