🍑 First Fruit: A Love Story Between Me and My Tree

Today is the first day of my leave.

I promised myself I would rest—and not feel guilty about it. I’ve made plans, I’ve putzed around the house, and I’ve worried, deeply, about my peach tree. I call her Peachy.

Now, me and Peachy have been through it.

First, she got hit with Peach Leaf Curl. That was partly on me—I didn’t keep up with treatment the way I should’ve. But we’re battling through, together. Then she had a growth spurt. And if you’ve never had a fruit tree, let me tell you: when they grow, they grow. They bloom, they fruit, they give.

I thinned her branches the best I could. I pruned. I whispered, Baby, you’re doing too much. I love you, but you can’t bear it all. But Girlfriend kept coming. Kept producing. Kept saying, This is good soil. I’m in a good home. I am loved. So I will give love.

Her branches bent low. So heavy with fruit they brushed the ground. And I worried. Was I doing enough? Had I over-pruned? Did I let her bloom too much, too fast?

And today—August 1st, the first day of my leave—she gave me her first ripe fruit of the season.

I picked it with reverence, heart racing a little. Last year was our first harvest, and that fruit tasted like joy and sunshine. I was afraid nothing would ever taste like that again. But this one? This one did. It still tasted like joy and sunshine.

And right then, I felt it deep in my chest: this is a message.

A message from the universe. From the land. From my ancestors.

A reminder that it’s going to be all right.

Because I’ve been going through it at work. The kind of “through it” that makes you question your worth. That grinds you down and makes you forget what your own voice sounds like. I had to take this leave because I couldn’t hear myself anymore.

But Peachy reminded me.

She reminded me that when you’re loved, when you’re rooted, when you’re in good soil—you bear fruit. Even when you’ve been through disease. Even when you’re bent low. Even when folks don’t understand all the pruning you’ve had to do just to stay standing.

Later today, I’ll go outside with my salt. I’ll bless my land. I’ll thank my ancestors. I’ll ask for healing—for myself, my home, my family. Because I believe that when we start with that kind of healing, we can heal the world. Or at least contribute to it.

So if you’re reading this, and you’re bent low, and you’re tired, and you’re questioning everything: maybe this is your sign, too.

It’s going to be all right.

Taste the fruit.

Rest

.