Fruit Slinger

Summer is winding down and, if I doubted it for a moment, I was reminded when we had to break out the lanterns to set up at the markets. It's hard to tell if a peach is bruised — or which apple is which — in the dark.

On Thursday, I took a walk around the orchard. The apples all look pretty much the same until a certain point, but now you can easily tell them apart.

I snapped a photo of some RedCorts — they are very handsome apples — before I stood contemplating a HoneyCrisp tree. It's funny, you know; the trees don't look like pure evil.

Standing there, I felt the longer, surer days of summer slipping away, and the uncertainty of autumn creeping in.

* * *

"Do you have any apricots?"

"No, sorry. We sold out. I'm pretty sure those were the last of the season, too."

"Wow. I need to find a way to get to the farmers market earlier."

"Well, you could work at the farmers market."

"Ha. Actually, I did for a few years. So, no thank you."

"I hear you."

* * * 

I have seen people linger, tarry, dawdle, hem, haw and hesitate. But Christ on a pogo stick, I have never seen a man take so long to buy fruit.

You came around three times, at least. I didn't speak with you the first time.

On your second visit, you spoke to me: "So, you're packing up?" I responded that I was packing up, yes, but that I would be happy to sell you something — an exaggeration, but not an outright lie. You stared at the plums and then walked away.

But, oh, then you came back!

We talked about the different plums, as I took each container from the table and poured it back into the crate to be stacked on the truck. You asked if you could make a pint-sized basket out of all the plums — a little variety pack of your very own. The answer, really, is not so much. I mean, we'd prefer not to do it that way.

But here's the thing: If I like you and want to make you happy, then I may say yes. And if I don't like you and want nothing more than for you to go away, I may also say yes.

Having assembled your basket of plums, you asked — after almost eternal consideration — if you could switch out one of the plums for a peach.

Do you remember a paragraph ago I talked about being a little more flexible for people I like, and a little more flexible for people I don't like?

Yes, you can have a peach.

But not because I like you.