The last of the peaches

Sunday I picked the last peaches off the tree.  Some of them weren't quite ripe, but I knew a couple of days sitting on the porch (I wanted them outside because they draw gnats) would make them perfect.  Peaches ripen quite well just sitting around, whether you buy them at Walmart or pick them from your tree.  Once they are ripe and juicy, the skin comes off easily without dipping them in boiling water and they are as sweet as though you had just picked them, tree-ripened.  
My original intention was to use them Monday, but I forgot about them.  This morning I noticed them, in their little bucket, and saw that some of them had ruined.  However, I set out to save as much as I could, and ended up with over two cups of sliced peaches.  These I sugared lightly and divided between our two bowls.  
I poured a tablespoon or so of cream over the peaches in each bowl, measured 2/3 of a cup of milk over that, and then put a cupful of cereal in the bowl... Mini Spooners for Cliff, Cheerios for me.  Yes, I do measure everything, because I have to record what I eat or drink on Sparkpeople.com.  
I can tell you we had a delicious breakfast that amounted to about 400 calories, but tasted like 1,000 calories.   
I have over forty freezer bags in the deep freeze with anywhere from 1 cup to a pint of sliced peaches in each, and probably almost that many strawberries.  We're set for delicious cereal throughout the year.  
I can't say I'm entirely sad to see the peach harvest over:  There will be no more sticky doorknobs and no more fruit flies hanging around my face looking for the peach I just ate.  
And now, let the tomato-canning and okra-freezing begin.  I assure you there will be no repeat of me scalding my belly, although if I had the same accident this year the boiling water would likely miss my belly and get my feet instead.  I've lost quite a bit of belly fat.   

The nightmare of Cliff's awful illness last spring is fading into the recesses of my mind, although I still tell him every once in awhile how glad I am that he is still alive.  He always responds with, "I'm glad to be here, too!"    
I think most of the doctor and hospital bills are paid (I'm crossing my fingers).  Cliff's tractor fund suffered a little, and our emergency fund diminished somewhat, but we're just thankful we had funds to use.  
At the tractor show last week, we happened to find ourselves eating at a table with another man who had a similar thing happen except that, where Cliff's gall bladder was fused to his liver, this fellow's was fused to his intestine.  Cliff's surgery was seven hours plus, this man's lasted five hours.  He was only three weeks past his ordeal and his wife asked, "Will he ever feel better?"  
I assured her he would, but that it's going to take a lot more time.  You couldn't have gotten Cliff out of the house three weeks post-surgery, let alone to a tractor show!