Peach Tree Tea

Tiny rays of sunshine twinkled through the leaves in Grandma Burton’s grape arbor. Thick foliage made it the perfect playhouse for a five year old. I lay on the cool packed earth, wishing for a playmate. It was September and O was in school. I was told to go outside and play while Mom and Grandma worked in the house.

Left to my own devices, I gathered twigs, dead leaves, and a few rocks to make a pretend campfire. Once the fire was hot, I prepared a delectable meal of chicken and potatoes baked in a bed of hot coals. I gathered a few greens and boiled them in a pot of hot water. As I was about to sit down to eat my pretend meal, I heard a car door slam.

Peaking through the grape leaf wall, I saw Aunt Vivian and her son Gary getting out of Uncle Jack’s car. Leaving my delectable meal to cool, I ran to say hello. Even though Gary was a year younger than me, we always had fun playing together.

“Hi Gary,” I called.

At the sound of my voice, he came running.

“Come on,” I said. “Let’s play house.”

“Okay,” he agreed.

I crawled beneath the wall of grape leaves and held them back so Gary could come inside. I set another plate on my pretend table, before inviting Gary to join me for lunch. We gobbled up our food as if we were starving, licked our fingers, and sat back.

“What’s for dessert,” Gary asked.

“Oh dear,” I said. “I didn’t make dessert.”

Looking around, we discovered dessert was all around us. Grandma’s treasured grapes were ready for picking.

“Let’s have grapes,” we said in unison.

I firmly believe my Grandma had a sixth sense, because just as Gary’s hand reached toward a cluster of grapes, she yelled, “You kids better not be eating those grapes.”

I pulled his hand back and said in an innocent voice, “We’re not.”

Our word wasn’t good enough. “Come out of there,” she demanded.

“We’re playing house,” I wheedled.

“Come out of there right now, or I’ll give you some peach tree tea.”

His eye still on dessert, Gary reached out to pluck one of those juicy grapes. My hand shot out to stop him.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“Grandma’s mad,” I enlightened.

“How do you know?”

“Because.”

“Because why?”

“Because she’s offering us peach tree tea.”

“Does it taste good?”

“You don’t drink it, silly.”

“What do you do with it then?” Gary asked.

“You don’t do anything with it, it does something to you. Peach tree tea is a switch Grandma breaks off the tree. If we eat her grapes, she’ll spank us with it.”

“Oh. Will she really spank us?”

Peeking through the leaves, I saw Grandma staring at the exact spot where we cowered. “I doubt it, but let’s get out of here anyway.”

Holding hands, we ran across the yard as fast as our little feet could carry us. We didn’t stop until we were behind the barn. I peeked around the corner just in time to see Grandma disappear inside the house.

“Come on. Let’s go climb on the hay,” I said.

Through the kitchen door we heard, “No playing on the hay.”

Convinced Grandma could see through walls, and not interested in tasting Grandma’s peach tree tea, we decided to go swing.

Story ID:	3478
Written by:	Betty (BJ) Roan (bio, link, contact, other stories)
Story type:	Family History
Location:	Toledo IL USA
Year:	1955