From blossoms come peaches. The peaches were sold on a dirt path by a little boy. The peaches were succulent and sweet. That is the basic message of this short poem.
Reading this, I was reminded of my days visiting my grandparents farm. We used to run out in the fields and pick the corn from the stalks, and take the strawberries right off the vines. We would eat them right there, dirty strawberries. They always tasted the best right off the vine, unless the weren't ripe yet. I can hear my grandmother now telling me the strawberries aren't ready to eat, so I better not pick any. I did it anyway, and I always regretted it because there is nothing more bitter tasting than an unripe strawberry.
The author talks about while eating the peach, she is not only eating the peach but also the shade and the days it was grown. There is a lot of hard work that goes into growing a crop of fruit or vegetables. In North Carolina, lots of work goes into growing cotton and tobacco as well. Those hours are spent sowing the ground and planting the seeds. Even to this day, there is not a machiene to do everything. Somethings are still done by hand. My mom tells stories about when she was a little girl and she used to pick tobacco. She said there was nothing better at the end of the long hot day than a pepsi and a honey bun. She and the author of From Blossoms, know the hard work that goes into the growing of crops. My grandparents were the type of people who sold their produce out of the back of the truck on the side of the road, just like the story. They appreciated local consumers, and local consumers appreciated them. They were not interested in going to the grocery store and getting produce when they knew of a better place to get it, probably for cheaper too. When you bite into a piece of dusty fresh produce, remember that a lot of time went into growing that strawberry or that peach. Think about that next time.