Lo and behold, I discovered peach trees this weekend – growing in the unlikeliest of places: my friends’ backyard in Red Hook, Brooklyn. (There are plum trees, too, but they have yet to start fruiting.) I can’t wait until August, when I hope a late night, outdoor session of our book club will be scented with the aroma of ripe fruit on the breeze – and the grill. The asphalt jungle never smelled so sweet.
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