This past week we went on a family outing to a peach orchard in Charlottesville. I had been waiting eagerly to go since I’d first learned that peaches grow so close to home. My youngest daughter and I discovered this while visiting the same mountain’s apple orchards last fall—a first for us.
Having had intense summer heat for weeks on end, and seeing the forecast for some milder temps, I pinned the day, talked with the gang, and it was set.
I love the views of the distant mountains in Charlottesville. Those blue hues breathe peace into my soul. Just being up on a mountain, surrounded by orchards and vineyards…well…I needn’t say more.
After a brief tutorial on peach picking, we selected the medium-sized bag to hold our fruit. The teacher, writer, and nursery-rhyme lover in me was beyond delighted to be handed a brown paper bag labeled “1 Peck.”
“Alright, ya’ll…” I exclaimed. “Let’s go pick a peck of peaches!” I mean, is there anything more fun than the use of alliteration?
We climbed up the hill and spent some time picking our peck and noticing how peaches grow. I was in awe, as I often am, of nature’s way. Being in that orchard felt sacred. Selecting fruit from an abundance of trees felt holy. Being there, having that experience with my best friend and my son and daughter, was remarkable.
Watching my teens walk down the hill together with the stunning backdrop of the Blue Ridge Mountains and the Piedmont was one of those moments that you take in and savor, creating a mental picture and fastened memory. It was one of those moments that touches a place so deep inside it cannot be described, only felt. It was an ineffable moment—one of profound gratitude.
Later that evening, once we’d returned home, I set to work making dinner. Also because of the reprieve from the heat, I’d decided stew was appropriate. When all was prepared and I let Aaron and the kids know dinner was ready, the teenage boy announced that he’d like to eat outside since it was nice and fairly cool out. We’re not setup for dining al fresco, but without a minute’s thought, we began clearing the table and quickly and efficiently set up our little dinette set outside.
As the sun set, our dinner of stew, a hot loaf of bread, and red wine (for the grown-ups) with our burning candle and jazz playlist, could not have been more perfect. We talked and laughed and simply enjoyed each other’s company and the fall-like ambiance. That teenage boy of mine has some great ideas. Good call, kid.
What I’ve yet to mention is that in-between our serene time at the orchard and our perfect dinner, there were some difficult emotions and conversation exchanged. Those less-than-romantic feelings and discussions creep up in life, often when least expected. If you have a partner, a child, or essentially any other relationship, they’re also unavoidable.
What I’ve come to know and appreciate is that those moments of pausing, of stepping outside of the ordinary, of intentional respite—in whatever form they come, however small or grand—provide perspective. They allow for, and are an invitation to, graciousness and patience—a stillness of spirit to rest in during challenging moments and seasons.
The toughest part? Learning to lean into the invitations to pause.
Indeed, often unlearning demands the most of us. It’s certainly asked the most of me.
Let us make room to say yes to invitations to expand perspective. Whether it’s a mountaintop experience or simply a backyard one; whether it’s the most joyful of interactions or the most difficult ones, let us remember to pause and to notice. Because when we do, we learn something about ourselves and those we hold dear.
Let us have eyes to see and ears to hear the invitations, for I believe they are what sustain us.
If nothing else, pause and pick a peck of peaches with your people. It might just make you smile.