smitten with apricots

The smell of these apricots filled the kitchen this morning.

I love how summer fruits announce their presence through the nose. They are real head-turners: beckoning us to follow our nose toward this sweet, temporal ambrosia. Unfortunately, most commercial grocery stores just can’t carry the delicate ripeness necessary for a truly ripe apricot. When they are tender to the point of bruise-like soft spots is when they are most divine.

I have to admit, I’m a bit of an apricot snob. It’s mainly a result of growing up with an apricot tree in my grandparents’ yard. I learned to judge ripeness when the apricots were tender and squishy, like baby skin – their sweet little freckles smiling from a bowl in the kitchen. I remember going though handfuls of them, spoiling my appetite for dinner. But maybe I was just getting my fill so that later in life when the grocery store produce disappoints I can hold on to that sweet memory. But just this weekend I found some perfect apricots at Diablo Foods and snatched them up. Two of them went into my breakfast (yogurt, blueberries, and pecans) and the rest perfumed my desk as I painted them today.

When I draw or paint something I always come away feeling like I have a more intimate knowledge of the subject. Every curve, color, and spot has been scrutinized. It’s like the difference between reading a poem and memorizing it: once you’ve processed it in your memory new discoveries are possible. Suddenly, you understand this thing in a way that (maybe) no one else has. You almost fall in love with it: noticing the subject and wanting to draw it (the initial attraction), then discovering its deeper complexities (the long-term relationship). Am I over-romanticizing the fruit?

It’s just an apricot, I know.  But after spending a few hours studying and smelling these apricots I feel smitten.

I hope everyone makes room this summer to spend some time with summer fruit. I’m looking forward to many more sensory affairs in the months to come.

One thought on “smitten with apricots

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s