The peaches of Pineapple Hill

The peaches of Pineapple Hill

After Pineapple Hill—our beach house in a cow pasture—was built, I planted peach trees. An odd thing to do because I’m famous for not being good at growing things. For instance, my brother gave a twenty-seven-year-old bonsai tree—I killed it in just a few weeks. Inexplicably, my peach trees have survived and the peaches are great. Eating them right off the tree is a treat—something never imagined when wondering what my life would be like if I was still alive past forty.

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