It just sort of happens. The kids get older. Get their own lives, their own circle of friends. Doing things as a family, except the occasional sit-down meal together, which is also becoming increasingly rare, becomes little more than a few fond memories of trips to the zoo, the Children's Museum, outings to the snow cone stand on a sweltering summer afternoon. Now, on the weekends, it's usually just me and my husband watching television, reading, wasting time on the internet, washing clothes, catching up on chores not done during the week. Family vacations fall into the same fond memory category.

But, then, sometimes it just happens. This past weekend I took the bold step of trying to get the four of us in one place and to commit to almost a full day together to drive to a town an hour and a half away. To pick peaches. My 15-year daughter was enthusiastically on board the peach-picking train and was actually the first one to bring up the idea. But, convincing a 19-year old boy/man to wake up early on a Saturday morning after working late the night before to come with his family to pick peaches--and that it would be fun--had me mustering up the best of my parental negotiating skills. It was a full court press. I should have been a lawyer.

After 4 failed attempts to wake each of my kids up and a lot of moaning and complaining (on their end, not mine), I plastered on my happy face, filled up my tank and theirs with cups of coffee as fuel until they eventually realized I wasn't going to give up, and they complied.

The town is Fredericksburg, Texas. Know for its peach orchards. Yes, it's hot here. But this is Hill Country and Fredericksburg is in the hills. Not quite as brutal as you would expect in July in Texas.

We experienced a bit of decompression as we slowly adjusted to the four of us in such close quarters in the car. It's been a while. A few cross words were exchanged and then we seemed to find our new rhythm and the trip was actually enjoyable as we talked about music, friends, cars, family.

They were kiddos the last time they saw trees heavy with ripe peaches. As we pulled up to the peach stand and the orchard came in full view, it was almost like they were kids again--the wonderment of showing them something new and sharing that experience. Under the shade of lovely peach trees all lined up in evenly measured rows, it was perfect napping weather.

Armed with an empty box that would ultimately be filled to the brim with peaches so sweet they make your cheeks ache just at the thought of them, we began to pick. And we laughed. And we talked. And we posed for pictures. And we enthusiastically beckoned one another to come over and see this one. And that one. The best one yet. The sweetest one for sure.

And the cherry on top this pile of peaches is when my son, my laid back son with the slacker persona, said with utter sincerity, "This is really fun."

We hauled our harvest back home and my daughter and I made peach cobbler from scratch. I haven't made peach cobbler in years. I don't make desserts so I won't eat them and have them deposit directly on my thighs. But we all indulged. Warm peach cobbler with vanilla ice cream. The sweetest of indulgences. Made all the sweeter by time spent with my family.

Our harvest.

A little brother/sister bonding.

Dad picks, while daughter checks out and samples the harvest.

Son's peach pose for posterity.