In Colorado, Labor Day weekend is the unofficial end of summer; a time of year when temperatures still reach summer highs, but they are tempered by a distinctly autumnal breeze. It’s during this weekend that my family made our annual pilgrimage to Cedaredge, Colorado. It’s beautiful, it’s peaceful, it is a tiny piece of Americana that has not changed with the rest of the world (save for the addition of an obligatory Howard Johnson hotel). My grandparents live a few miles outside of town, on what we fondly call “the farm.” Their house lies on acreage halfway up the Grand Mesa, and overlooks the craggy silouette of the San Juans to the south, with two creeks converging on their property, some old sheds and chicken houses, cows at pasture, scrub brush, and…the peach trees.
