I picked some peaches off the tree this morning. The temperature was perfect. The kind of temperature that you don’t have to brace yourself for when you open the door (if you’re from Minnesota, you know what I mean). This kind of morning you can wander outside, it feels the same temperature as inside, like the whole world is your domain. In this world I plucked the ripe peaches off the tree and put them in a bowl. Peaches, I thought…and in french – peches… is it les peches? des peches? Follow my brain here… De peche mode – the band, oh yes, 90’s music… oooh, the 90’s, wait, that’s 30 years ago, wow, time…time is really something. Do I have the time to make peach jam? Do I have any time? No. No one “has” time, I guess. Because I don’t think you can really possess time at all. Time is there, like a gift. We can enjoy it, or not… but we can’t own it. Can’t manipulate it, create it, change it, borrow it. I guess it’s like love. It’s a gift. To be enjoyed. Picked. Treasured. Like the peaches on this tree. In my time, I’m going to make the jam, share it with those around me, and hope they can feel the love in that. Because it’s there. Given. OH, my bowl is full. What a lovely day!