The Peach Tree Essay -- Observation Essay, Descriptive Essay

The Peach Tree When I reminisce about my childhood, the fondest memories I have revolve around food. We often went on picnics to the beach. There at the waters edge, my father would struggle to light the charcoal in the wind that kept both the hot dogs and the kids cold. My mothers anise-sweetened bread was the perfect gimmick for ham of all timey Easter morning, afternoon, and the days that followed. On my birthday we everlastingly had gnocchi, fluffy pillows of pasta that melted in our mouths, tossed with an ethereal tomato sauce. In August we had blitheres and not just any peaches, peaches from our peach direct. I love our peach tree. I love the memory of that tree. In retrospect, the peach tree was an integral part of my childhood.I cannot recall when we first got the peach tree. It seems as if it was always there in the backyard. I do know that it was a gift from my aunt and uncle who worked at Del Montes Agricultural Research Facility. Whether it was a out of date or spec ial breed, I wonder. The fruit was so sweet that I cant imagine Del Monte choosing such a fine specimen completely to douse it in heavy simple syrup. Whatever its parentage, it was our good spate to receive such a tree it produced the sweetest, most succulent peaches Ive ever eaten. The peach tree was special to us. It was, in fact, the only tree in our small yard. We grew through the seasons with it. Every February the first bits of pink showed through the tightly closed flower buds. By March, it was covered in pink, like transcend cotton candy. In April, little flecks of green accented the pink blossoms and easily pushed out the pink until a fresh, vibrant green blanketed the crown of the tree. During this transition, the lawn became a carpet of pink. Then slowly th... ... the old tree was producing only a few runt-sized fruit. One winter my parents cut down the tree. It left a scar on the lawn and a barren space in the yard. I hadnt thought much about that old tree for some time. It was the peach tree, after all, along with my grandparents vegetable garden that planted the seed, so to speak, of my petulance for the garden. The first fruit trees I planted in my own backyard were peaches. When I told my sisters that I was writing about the peach tree, they both smiled a acquainted(predicate) smile. For a moment, they were transported to another place and time. And I knew that it wasnt simply nostalgia seen through the improvident eyes of memory, it was real. In the years that have followed I have neer found a peach as large, juicy and luscious as the ones from our tree. It may have been Del Montes secret special breed, but I conceive of it was more.