Welcome to The Longing Peach

I was raised among fields-dirt under my fingernails, pollen on the wind, and words tucked behind my teeth. I’ve come to believe that longing is its own kind of light. It draws us forward, not away. And sometimes, that soft ache is where the truest beauty lives.

The Longing Peach is a place built from that kind of light. It’s a quiet patch of earth where we slow down, dig deep, and notice the small things: the shape of a shadow on the porch, the sound of children in the orchard, the comfort of a book left open on the table.

Here, you’ll find reflections that carry the weight of lived life, moments that speak in hushed tones, and the kind of grace you only recognize once you’ve lived without it awhile.

Like Steinbeck’s Salinas Valley, this blog is part dirt and part dream. A place of seasons, tenderness, toil-and hope.

I’m grateful you’re here. There’s a chair on the porch and a story waiting to be told.