Summer burned the peaches
We stopped to swipe
In Chilton County.
And fell into my open hand,
The weight of the sun,
Russet, pink, and orange,
Hazy with down.
You bit into the cleft,
And I stole a stare,
My mother Bunny was my Dad’s one-and-only “Georgia Peach.” But how he took to Alabama fruit once they moved to Birmingham.
Every summer he trekked to Chilton County to pick and pick, peach after peach, weekend after weekend, for the pleasure of putting up sweet jam to spread on fluffy biscuits. My memory still tastes the wonder.
Only two luscious weeks left—take your pick of Alabama’s finest.
Photograph courtesy of Tobias Maschler
I grew up in Birmingham, but I live in Texas now. They are proud of their Hill Country peaches here, but they don’t come close to Chilton County peaches! Wish I could have one now 🙁