Picking Fruit

Every year, I go to Erie Orchards to pick blueberries and peaches. Right around the last week of July or the first week of August, I call up Thad, and we set a date. I don’t remember how it started. I only know that Thad, my mom, and I have done this for years. Whenever I eat a particularly juicy peach, I remember climbing peach trees with Thad, eating right off of the tree until our stomachs hurt, and throwing the bad peaches as far as we could. 

I went to school with Thad for fourteen years, from the time we were five. Now, both of us are in college hours apart. During a brief visit home this summer, I went peach and blueberry picking at Erie Orchards. I went with my parents and my boyfriend. It felt like a betrayal to Thad, even though I was only home for the weekend and he never even knew I was in town. That place and activity belonged to us, and I felt like I had stolen it from him. Next year, I want to do it with Thad. 

Whenever Thad and I went picking, we’d wander around the store at Erie orchards and buy little tubes full of flavored honey. We’d often buy a doughnut or a fritter and drive home. We’d eat the blueberries as we drove. We often made peach pie when we got back to my house. While it was in the oven, we would play cards with my parents, usually hearts or wizard. 

I remember one time specifically. I was picking blueberries when I felt something hit me in the head. I turned around to find a bombardment of blueberries coming at me. Suddenly, Thad and I were engaged in a blueberry war. As we threw, we attempted to catch the flying berries in our mouths, rarely with success. 

Peaches and blueberries remind me of summer and Thad. These are two of my favorite fruits, probably because of the memories that come to mind. As noted in the Kniazeva and Venkatesh article, we choose foods based not just on their taste but on what they symbolize. For me, these foods symbolize carefree summers and friendship. But they also symbolize a connection with the land my food comes from. Because I have so often gotten these fruits right off of the tree or bush, it often feels strange to buy peaches or blueberries from a grocery store. More often, I will purchase bananas, grapes, or strawberries. Though I have picked other fruits, the consistency with which I have gotten my peaches and blueberries from the source has given them this particular connection. 

Interestingly, I have never considered peaches or blueberries to be a comfort food. Nor have I considered peach pie to be a comfort food, even though I regularly request it for my birthday dessert. Though I love these foods and clearly associate them with a friend, I usually don’t turn to them in times of sadness. Instead, I have usually relied on macaroni and cheese, which I associate more generally with home as opposed to a specific person. Perhaps peaches and blueberries have never become a comfort food because I almost only eat them in season, when I can get them off of the tree. If I got them at another time of year, they might lose their meaning as a carefree food meant for summer and hot days. Like other food traditions, they have a time and place. And, as I discovered this year when I went picking without Thad, they have a person as well.