Ficly

peaches

Momma tied up my hair into a ponytail and I picked out a pretty light blue calico dress. It comes down just below my knees and has short sleeves with lace. I put on a little white apron over it and put my book into my wicker basket.

The sun was just coming over the far away mountains when I skipped outside across the field next to our little home. Hues of pink and orange lit up the mountain range and the reflected light danced on my face and across the pages of my book.

I was heading over to the big peach orchard on the other side of this little pasture. Daddy’s daddy’s daddy owned the land around our little house up to five miles in each direction; the house and the land was passed down from generation to generation but after daddy died momma sold all but the few acres where our house and peach coppice are. I’m so glad she didn’t sell the orchard because it’s my favorite place in the whole world, and I like being able to sell peaches in my wooden stand by the roadside in the summer and early autumn months.

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