Yesterday I pulled a considerable amount of wild morning glories off my front rose bush, and pruned away the dying and leggy branches which bore testimony to a certain benign neglect. I clipped a single rose, a fragrant Maggie, some black-eyed susans and both blue and white lantana. In the house I searched out a blue and white Japanese inspired vase and placed it and the flowers on the library table in the center of my dining room.
Then my younger son and I rolled out pastry crust. I peeled the fresh peaches but it was my son who mixed in the sugar, cinnamon, and nutmeg. I made a lattice crust for the top and popped it into the oven.
When it was hot and bubbly, the crust a golden brown, I made tea and we ate the best peach pie I’ve ever had.