No place but Georgia

Keep your hands to yourself / Georgia Satellites








There was a peach tree in our back yard. It was pretty old and each year little furry green rocks would form on it’s branches. Squirrels would try to get them, wind would make them fall. For years all I wanted was one of these little treasures to grow into a reach peach.



After seven years of waiting, finally it looked like one was going to make it. I watched that one piece of fruit grow over the days then weeks. Until finally it was large enough and a yellow orange color. It wasn’t fully ripe and it was hard as a rock, but still. It had outlasted all the others.


We picked it with great ceremony and carried it into the house. It was washed and adored. Eventually, we took out the knife to sample our prize. We were too late. In the heart of it’s pit were two bright green caterpillars, both fatter and juicer than the peach itself. I was horrified and have never been found of peaches since.