Elisabeth Dahl

Megalith in Peach

In August, my father brought them, a bagful from a farmer friend. They were not just juicy but gorgeous, with a rich ombré flesh that went blood-red toward the pit. We indulged for weeks, cooking them into everything, eating them raw over sinks. Then, thinking ahead, we chopped and froze one plastic tub full. We waited through apple season. We endured the first snowfall. Finally, we couldn’t wait anymore. We ran the plastic tub under hot water, releasing our megalith in peach.