Scent Notes:  The juicy pop when your teeth break the skin, sweet rich peach juice running down your chin, rich floral.

It's a core memory. I'm a little kid, loaded up in the car way too early in the morning. I am driven to one of those U-Pick farms where you wander around in the orchards and choose your own fruits from the trees (I am tiny though, so I am no help at all, I just follow and try not to trip over the irrigation pipes.) There is a gentle buzzing of bugs around me, and by now, the orchard is warming up and I can smell the damp soil, the summer-ness of the trees, laden with fat juicy peaches. I watch as my family members reach up and pluck the rich fuzzy fruits from their branches and place them gently in their baskets. My grandpa says, "Come here," and I waddle over to where he has cut open a peach with his pocket knife and is holding a slice out to me. I take it in my pudgy hand and take a bite. THE WORLD EXPLODES. My tiny mind is freaking out with the epic flavor of the sun-warmed peach, juice running down my arm. The taste is like nothing else, sweet, thick, succulent, potent. I ask for another piece and we stand there until we have devoured the whole thing. I can't wait to get my tiny hands on MORE PEACHES...