Pilfered Apricots

Living in northern California has a lot of nice aspects. The weather is consistently fantastic (except this year). San Jose is also pancake flat, so I can cycle or walk basically anywhere. All the good weather is great for gardens too. Everything grows well here, and there is always something in season.

The second half of summer is time for stone fruits, and as luck should have it, I noticed an apricot tree teeming with ripe fruit last night while walking to dinner. This treasure was sitting in the middle of a fenced-in abandoned lot nestled behind a 7-11. I made a mental note, and walked on to have a fantastic Vietnamese dinner at Vung Tau, one of San Jose’s many excellent Vietnamese restaurants – the amazing diversity of people and treats being another plus of living here.

After having mustered up courage while considering the name shaking beef, we started to make our way home. As I passed the apricot lot, I glanced about to make sure the coast was clear, and with one deft swoop I was over the fence, and into the land of milk and honey. I had bought some trifles at 7-11 beforehand so I could get a plastic bag, and once up in the branches of the apricot tree, I filled it to the brim with ripe fruit.

Almost as soon as I was in the lot, I was back over the fence with the mother-lode of apricots, and back on my way home.

Even though my days currently consist of the thrilling little death march of bar study, and the stress of dealing with a crooked mechanic, little adventures like this make life worthwhile.

Thank goodness for summer time.