This is a sponsored post. I was compensated financially by California Bartlett Pears. All thoughts and opinions about these pears are my own.
My love for pears runs deep. It always has and always will. Pears whisper their flavour, rather than shout it from the rooftops like the stone fruits currently having their moment. Pears are the underdogs of the fruit world, and I kind of love them for that. Their subtle sweetness is still something I crave in this season of peaches and cherries. The pear, to me, is the perfect fruit. I love the shape, the scent and the sweetness. In fact, if I were to ever get a tattoo, it would be that of a pear, somewhere. Pears are what I remember eating as a kid while riding with my mom in the grain truck, as my dad was combining the fields of wheat on our Saskatchewan farm. Pears are what a really cute boy I used to work with many, many years ago would bring me as a token of his fondness. Things didn't work out with the boy, but my fondness for pears lives on. Funny thing how one sniff takes you back to when you were 5 or 25.
