Every time I see a pear, or eat one, I think of my father. About 10-11 years ago, I was (oh, maybe 18 years old) living with my parents in the home I grew up in. By this time, my dad had become an avid gardener. He had 4 vegetable gardens and several trees planted in our backyard.
Each morning, Dad would bring a pear to my grandmother, my mother, and to me. They were so yummy!! By mid-afternoon, I would want another. Dad was a once-a-day kinda man, so I'd 'steal' one.
One evening, my sister, Optimus Prime, came over. She asked if I wanted to go get one of dad's pears. Naturally, I jumped at the idea. Out to the backyard we went. I went to the left side of the yard, to THE pear tree. Optimus Prime asked where I was going. She had gone to the right. What a delight to find Dad had not one pear tree, but two!! We were in pear heaven.
The other day, I went to the grocery store and purchased 4 peaches. One for each of us. I purchased this 1 pear for me. As a reminder of my father (he's alive and kicking in Canada). Above is a sliced pear. J sliced it. And ate it. He e-mailed me the picture of the pear so I would know he ate it. You aren't even suppose to slice a pear for true flavor. You should bite into it's soft goodness and savor the rich texture.