It might amaze you to learn that one good year of peaches brings $30 to $50 million into South Carolina and more than 50 percent of them are shipped north to New York and Washington, Ohio, Illinois, etc.
Following last year’s freeze out, the little golf ball sized greenies are fast ripening on the limbs for the first 2008 picking. By early June, the good, if not great, crop should produce at least 75 percent of the state’s usual full crops, says Martin Eubanks, director of marketing for the S.C. Department of Agriculture. Thus, we continue our high station as the number two peach grower in the U.S., with only big old California ahead of us. Georgia should come in third, as it has for many years since our “peach belt” from Lexington over to Aiken began expanding, and with the Piedmont crop, set us up to number two.
Don’t feel bad if you didn’t know this. The Yankees don’t and probably never will. Just last week, one of TV’s national commentators remarked that we would soon be getting “those wonderful peaches from Georgia.” Wouldn’t you think that his “professional” staff could give him more accurate information? But then, they seldom mention Californian peaches, either.
Eubanks says at least 100 varieties of the heavenly fruit are cultivated in the Palmetto State because they stretch the season a month longer on either end. Other good news -- with a big crop, the $16 tab for a half bushel last year is likely to be less. Once more, you can stand at the sink, peel two to six of the ripest and gouge down, feeling that fabulous juice sweeten your jaws, throat and stomach.
Gastronomic ecstasy
No longer one of the top peach producers, Orangeburg County has no grower-shipper left. Labor cost, bad seasons, root rot and plum tree disease cut the crop hard during the last decade. But good news -- we still have a half dozen or so “You Picks” across the county, where they will sell you a half bushel from a highway stand, or let you fill your own basket for two to three dollars less.
All you new county dwellers, even TV sport couch potatoes, must do this at least once. Unlike our toothsome blueberries or strawberries, ripe peaches almost fall into the basket, half as big as big applies. Often the limbs are so full that you don’t have to bend over, just rake them in with your hand. Pick before 10 a.m. when the heat won’t zap you.
One of the farms offering this “gastronomic ecstasy” is that of John and Virginia “Jinx” Hinnant off Highway 6 three miles west of Eutawville. They and the Robert Norris farm nearby are the only two “You Picks” left in the eastern side of the county. Their son, Kenneth Hinnant, the farm’s supervisor, says peaches will be good and ready for the crowds early in June. The Hinnants, who once cultivated 100 acres of trees until freezes, diseases and a low market forced decline. Today, their 30 acres totaling 2,000 trees fill up 2,000 half-bushel baskets a season; around five baskets to a tree.
The “Ruby Prince” ripen first, followed by the only two “white meat” peaches, “Georgia Belle” and “Southern Pearl.” Also, many “yellow meats,” “Red Globe” and others. The last to color and fatten are the “Tylers,” which peak in August. Unfortunately, today’s trees have a life span of about 10 years, nothing to compare with the 1970s into the 1990s when many kept producing 20 years. Frequent crossings and graftings to produce bigger and better fruit invited more scourges.
Fungicide my sides
Growers feel a surge of pride in a good crop as they view the orchards and recall all the heavy labor. Pruning takes place in January and February when Ken and two hired workers cut a couple of feet off of every limb on every tree. “We have to give them an umbrella shape to let the sunlight penetrate down into the centers,” he says.
Fertilizer is spread with a spreader in March, but not until a soil analysis is made by a hired expert. Usually, a 20-20-20 mixture or calcium nitrate fills the bill.
Then come the frequent sprayings with fungicides and insecticides, first on their magnificent blossoms, then twice a month; after the leaves appear, when the fruit buds out, or when rains wash off all the spray of the past week. All summer this goes on.
“These chemicals cost me at least $10,000 a year,” Ken says ruefully. “When we spray on ripe fruit, we stop all picking for the next day or two to protect pickers from any exposure to chemicals. We have to turn many away.”
“Another pest is thieves, not the insect but the human kind. They come at night to steal the fruit, or often, one of the newly planted baby trees. Fifty disappeared during one season. If we hear anybody, we go out with flashlights, find footprints, sometimes an empty hole, but that doesn’t stop them. And that’s not all they take. We planted flowers under our big highway sign. They stole them. Another morning we went out to open our new metal field gate. They had stolen it. Now we have (a sign) with posts set in concrete,” Ken said.
“Every business has some kind of bad luck. But some good luck, too. It’s such a pleasure to see the picking public come, having fun while they pick, and just enjoy looking around. There’ll be plenty,” he said.
NOTE: It’s a very old, once widely quoted, colloquial poem: “My nose eetches, I smell peaches, yonder comes a boy with a hole in his breeches.” Anyone know it’s origin?
* Retired editor and public relations executive Thomas Langford’s column is titled “Some Edisto stories.” Let him know if you have stories to share: 803-534-2097.