Peach Pickin’ N’ People Watchin’
by Bella Rum
Yesterday, we took a day trip to Carter Mountain Orchard near Charlottesville. What a gorgeous day. After buying some peaches, destined to end up in a peach cobbler for H, we drove into Charlottesville for lunch, a little people watching and some feel-N’-touch shopping (not buying) in the small shops along the Pedestrian Market, a.k.a. Historical Downtown Mall.
Main Street – Charlottesville, Virginia
It’s been a couple of years since my last visit to Charlottesville. I’ve always thought it was a pretty area. A beautiful brick-paved city street (blocked off for pedestrians), colossal planters overflowing with dusty miller, coleuses and sweet potato vines, huge trees that carelessly toss dappled shade over scattered bistro tables, a variety of restaurants and quaint shops lining both sides of the street, the Pedestrian Market is an oasis for diners and shoppers.
We enjoyed our lunch from Eppie’s. H got the Mediterranean sandwich with humus, roasted peppers, etc, and I chose the tarragon chicken salad and a small fruit salad that I shared with H. We sat there and lazily enjoyed the day. I so relish our day trips. I think that having no control over the weather makes it all the sweeter when we get such a splendid day… especially in July.
The working lunch set was out and about, and there was the occasional college student strumming a guitar or singing a song or playing an instrument, and hoping to earn a little extra money. I think they did. I noticed that long skirts and sleeveless tops are “in,” at least in Charlottesville. I must have seen more than a dozen pretty girls pass by in flowing swirls.
The crowd seemed a little on the young side to me. Of course the college kids were young, but the bulk of the crowd looked to be in their twenties, thirties or forties, and a few in their early fifties. And fit! Gosh, I hardly saw a fat person in the bunch. How many parts of America can you say that about? And what a well-dressed crowd.
I looked up to see one of the most gorgeous men I’ve ever seen in real life. He was in his forties, but had a full head of prematurely white hair. He was fit. Very. He wore an expensive, flawlessly fitted, pearl-gray suit, and his face was nothing short of the male personification of beauty. He was walking in our general direction with a pretty, younger woman. I thought to myself that he’d gotten every woman he ever wanted his entire life. Voted most popular in high school, president of his fraternity in college, he always won the bet, got the girl, and snagged the job. He spent his life buying low and selling high, his kids were smart, athletic and beautiful, and his car was fast. But as they passed, I caught a snatch of their conversation. He asked her, “Have you guys picked a date yet?” She replied, “Yes, October…” And the rest of their story was lost to me as they passed me by, but they were friends or possibly father and daughter, but not lovers. I knew that much.
Then I changed his story. He’s still with the same woman he married twenty years ago. She’s lovely, an artist, drinks herbal tea and has tiny lines beginning at the corners of her eyes from squinching them when she laughs. And he makes her laugh a lot.