I went peach picking today out at Carter’s Mountain Orchard. Wandering out amongst the rolling hills of peachy promised-land, I started thinking about how life is like peach picking. You are given a bag at the beginning and told to go out and find the best peaches you can gather. But, if you are like myself and many others, you don’t know what constitutes the perfect peach. You don’t know what you’re looking for and, of course, you forgot to ask. But those peach picking experts who could have helped you are now a mile away.
So what do you? You start making shit up. You decide that you like your peaches firm and yellow, but those peaches are actually wretchedly unripe. Well… That’s when you fake like you meant it and own that decision. You wouldn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of… yourself. Next thing you know, you have eighteen pounds of rock hard peaches, prematurely separated from their branches. But hey they ripen eventually right? I’m not saying that this happened to me… I’m just sayin.
And frankly peach picking is nothing like life but there are few things better than an incoherent metaphor for the human experience.
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