’Fuskie Pear Bread

Blossoms on our three pear trees were among the first signs of spring. As the petals dropped, we’d count the tiny pears left behind to guess how much sweet fruit we’d have in August. We girls loved pears, and Momma’s worst threats couldn’t stop us from trying to eat them early.

“Doncha churn eat dem pears while we gone” would be the last words from her mouth as she and Pop headed off in the wagon behind our steer Bobby. No sooner had they cleared the end of the driveway than we woul