Earlier this week August and I began the day with picking these small, juicy peaches off my Grandfather's trees. The sounds of roosters crowing and goats bleating before the sun rose was exactly what I needed to hear.
Peaches gently perfumed the air. It was the scent of summers spent at my Grandparent's house. So much has changed, even the mourning doves have changed their song, but for a moment my childhood and August's existed together, side by side.