By Julie

Neomi threw back her head and bit into the newly picked peach. “Is it tasty?” her brother Frank asked, picking another and tossing it down into their basket. “No,” Neomi answered. “It’s not tasty, but it’s fresh and peachy.” She answered. Frank cocked his head and took a bite. “Tasty to me,” he shrugged. Neomi frowned and took another bite. “It’s not tasty to me, but it tastes like peaches to me. It tastes beautiful.” Frank cocked his head again. “Doesn’t that mean it’s tasty, though?” Neomi shook her head. “Tasty isn’t the right word.” Ma poked her head through the cottage door. “Are you picking or eating?” she asked. “Both!” Neomi yelled, as Frank yelled, “Picking!” at the same time. “Okay,” Ma poked her back inside. “I’m going inside,” Neomi decided. I need to work on my quilt.” Frank shrugged. “Okay, but I’m staying out here.” Neomi dragged her bucket of peaches inside and found her quilting basket. She began to quilt. All of the things on the patches she had embroidered herself, they were all things that she liked. “Ma, isn’t it beautiful?” Neomi asked Ma. “Oh, yes, Neomi.” she answered. “I’ve always loved your quilts.” On one patch was the cottage, another was the pigpen, on another the barn, and the church down the road. There was the chicken coop, and a cherry pie. There was Ma and Pa in their church clothes, and Frank. There was her in her cooking apron holding a pie, and the quilt was almost done. “This is my newest block,” remarked Neomi. She pointed to a new block near the edge that had not been there before. This block looked just like the others, made of an old dish rag that Ma did not need, but embroidered in the middle was a thin, dark branch. Sprouting from the branch were three tiny green leaves. Also sprouting from the branch were a pair of peaches. “Why are there peaches?” asked Ma. “Because I like them.” Neomi answered stubbornly. “They taste beautiful.” Ma smiled. “You can’t taste beautiful, you can see beautiful.” Neomi thought for a moment. “But if you can see beautiful, then can’t you also see tangy?” Ma shook her head no. “But you can taste tangy.” she added. “That you can certainly do.” Neomi skipped outside to join Frank, who was eating a peach. “I like peaches,” Neomi told him. “They look tangy, and they taste beautiful. They smell fuzzy. They feel peachy.” Frank cocked his head. “All this yik-yaking is making me dizzy,” he said, and Neomi took a bite out of another peach.