Who else but I might have unopened packages of nylon stockings–not pantyhose–saved for decades just for this day to serve as straining bags to hold the pulp away from juices that become peach wine? Even as the bubbling peach transforms itself the stockings meant to grace a lady’s youthful limb holds instead inside itself a rosy glow of fruit.
Pure sensuality.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology
You are much to strained for fruit, pulling out stocking and all.
No need for ferment. Grocery store right down the lane.
Sounds like a lovely title for a great bit of writing — “Peach Wine and Silk Stockings”. How could anyone pass by a book with that kind of intriguing title?
Life is so drab here. I’m pushing my apple jelly through a coarse sieve.