Total Pageviews

Tuesday, September 20, 2016

Everything is Peachy

This story begins twelve years ago. My Wonderful Husband I were still living and traveling full time in a RV back then. We were staying at a campground, near the Columbia River in Oregon during the summer of 2004.  

The campground was situated along a tributary river that fed into the Columbia and we were lucky enough to get one of the few riverfront campsites. We had a tree close to the water on our site so we had some shade. We'd sit in our lawn chairs and watch the people fishing and water skiing. We could even see the big barges going down the Columbia. It was Heaven. 
Riverfront camping in 2004

The weekend came and people showed up with their tents, campers and boats. A family who was camping near us, but not on the water, asked if they could tie their boat up to the tree, so they wouldn't have to trailer it in and out all weekend. Absolutely, we said, and thought no more about it. 

The next morning, someone knocked at our door. It was the boater with a paper bag full of fresh fruit. We said thank you. There were cherries, apples, and peaches. I ate an apple with my breakfast and my Wonderful Husband had some cherries, both were delicious.

We weren't sure what we would do with the peaches. I had tried fresh peaches before and didn't like them. Wonderful Hubby had fruit allergies as a child, so he had never tried fresh peaches.

The next morning we decided to try one of the peaches. I didn't like the taste or texture, but my Wonderful Husband absolutely loved them. We asked the boater where, exactly, he had gotten the fruit. For the rest of that summer, we went across the river to an orchard in Washington. I'd get apples and he'd get peaches. 

When we got back to Yuma in the Fall, he bought peaches in the grocery store and they were awful. We never made it back to Oregon, so Wonderful Hubby never got good peaches again. 

Fast forward twelve years and the World Parkinson Congress  (WPC) is in Portland, Oregon. The route I planned to get there wasn't the shortest or the most direct but it would take us right near that orchard from a dozen years ago. I didn't know if it would still be there or if they would have any peaches left, but I was willing to take a chance. I didn't tell Wonderful Hubby because I didn't want to get his hopes up. 

As we were driving along I-84, enjoying the view of Mt. Hood in the distance and watching the barges on the Columbia River on our right, we drove past that campground we had stayed at so many years before.  

All of a sudden, Wonderful Hubby remembered the peaches and asks if I remember where the orchard was. Yes, I said, the bridge is up ahead and I've been planning on stopping there ever since I found out the WPC was going to be in Portland. 

We went across the river and turned down the side road to the orchard, keeping our fingers crossed. The trees were barren, but up ahead the fruit stand was open and there were boxes of peaches! 

Wonderful Hubby jumped out and went inside. They had picked the last peaches of the season a day or two before and would be closing the stand in a few days. They cut one open so he could have a taste. It was delicious, he said. He ended up eating the rest of it and he bought a whole box of peaches from their cooler, so they'd stay fresh longer. After all, we wouldn't get back home for about a week.

Box of Peaches

Now all I had to do was make room in our car. I hadn't thought about this part. We squeezed them in between our suitcases and headed off to Portland. It was colder in the hotel garage than in our room, so we left them in the car during the WPC.

On our way home, they got moved inside at each stop and placed right in front of the room air conditioner. They made it all the way back home to Yuma and he shared some with the neighbors. I thoroughly enjoyed watching him savor every bite.

Everything about our trip to Portland turned out to be just PEACHY! 

Clicking on the colored words will open a new window and take you to a different story or website. 

No comments:

Post a Comment