"Grilled on the hot seat, frozen by cold shoulder, odd how hot and cold add seasoning to season?" Peche dug spoon in bowl, dug deeper into wife's irritation, took nother bite.
"You got peach juice running down your chin! I just sliced those up for the cobbler!" Georgia Perzik huffed, mumbled lament, "It 'was' marinating with cinnamon and nutmeg." From cupboard she retrieved flour, sat it beside milk on counter top.
"But it tastes so good," Peche grinned as he munched away. Heating up the wife in the kitchen was such fun. My how he loved her petite yet plush Cornish hen figure, as she flounced fain ire.
"Peche, you are a sneaky peach cobbler filling pilferer!" Georgia puffed at pony tail escaped strand of auburn. She tried not to smile at husband's most recent shenanigan.
"But I am the Peche," the near golden skin and too blond spiked hair of the Peche glowed in the sunlight framed by kitchen window. He offered, "I tell you what. The Peche will re-prepare the peaches. You just tell me what to do and we do together."
Atonement for bad behavior should be' so easy," Georgia no longer hid smile, "but you are forgiven." And blessing clung to her thoughts as she commanded, "So okay, real simple, slice up about four cups of those up river peaches that Jana and Daryll dropped off after church. Then stir in a tad more than a dash or two of cinnamon, and a dash of nutmeg. It needs to sit for a bit." Her smile grew. "Think you can handle that Mr. Peach Poacher?"
"Chef Peche to the rescue." The Peche sidled up next wife, planted peach sticky kiss to the prize freckles of Georgia neck.
"Get away," Georgia giggled, gave him elbow. "Save some of that energy for later this evening when Jana and Daryll bring their hand cranked ice cream maker. I want this peach cobbler nice and hot to melt that homemade ice cream topping."
"But," Peche tried snuggling closer. Again elbow nudged ribs
"Focus, old man! Those peaches are not going to re-prepare themselves." Georgia smiled, gave the Peche peck on cheek.
"Ahh, the Georgia peach peck, as in I love you but... work to be done." Peche sighed, from the basket next counter retrieved fresh orchard peaches, added, "Yet, so sweet is the work."
"Meanwhile back at the ranch, er lavender ranch that is." Georgia rebooted, took pause, gazed thru kitchen window oer lavender field to the Pedernales River below; and thought out loud, "Thank you, Jesus." And so refreshed, in mixing bowl she then added, "Let's see: 1 cup sugar... 1/4 tsp salt... 1 tsp baking powder... 3/4 cup flour... stir it up... and now beat in 3/4 cup of milk till all the lumpy lumps be gone."
"My beautiful wife bout ready for these peaches?" Peche held forth tad over four cups bowl of re-prepared peaches.
"Aah, my favorite lump of all is one swift peach slicing machine." Georgia finished batter beating.
"Ready for the Peche to stir in for you these-a 'so sweet-a' sliced peaches?" A tad over eager Peche again asked, grasped wooden spoon, readied for action.
"Give me that bowl." Georgia snatched it from him in the nick of premature mixing. "Step away from the batter, lump boy." She commanded, then sat bowl on counter top. "First we pull from the oven," she turned, opened oven door, "this two quart casserole dish with 1/4 pound melted butter in its belly. Then... then we without stirring pour in the batter... a reminder: without stirring... then we spoon on the fresh sliced peaches over the top of the batter... and note: this too is a no stir zone. Then all we got to do is put it in the oven at 350 degrees for about 45 minutes, or until the top is light to medium brown..."
The door bell rang... the wine enjoyed... the homemade french vanilla ice cream hand churned... and my oh my in the sweet by and by, that ice cream topped hot peach cobbler. But before they supped, with hands joined, guests Jana and Daryll with hosts Georgia and the Peche stood at back porch railing; eyes set upon golden sunset oer the Pedernales River; as they sang thanks giving: "O taste and see that the Lord is good: blessed are they that trust in him." Psalm 34:8
Slow down... enjoy life... praise the One who giveth it... Father, Son, Holy Spirit...
Note: In the Texas Hill Country lie the scenic rapids and falls of the Pedernales. More than a tad are the peach orchards, wineries and lavender ranches that line river bank. I think of it as: The Heart of God's Country.
Our characters take a bow:
Georgia - a Georgia peach transplanted to Texas
The Peche - French for peach
Last name Perzik - Dutch for peach
Jana and Daryll - the neighbor peach orchard wranglers... Read their story, "Every Peach Has Its Pit" August 2015 in the menu at pawpawcorner.blogspot.com or just click the title top left of page...
May God bless ya'll peaches, everyone... in Jesus precious name...
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