Show Some Self Control, Woman!

A neighboring farm grows nectarines. And they let us glean. As much as we want.

It seems like their harvest crew didn't pick very many. There are thousands left. Ripe for the picking.

My arms, to about my elbows, are stickified by drippings from the plump sweet bursting-with-flavor treats. I wonder if you can get a sugar coma from fruit.