Bud Burst Pears

I can’t think of a name.

I’m not a big computer guy, and it’s not because of the size of my hands. Call me clumsy, but I’ve learned my way around the keyboard. It’s usually web design that throws me, but this time I found a template that works pretty darn good. Nope; this time the issue is a matter of taste - what to call my online shop?

I’m not looking for flashy. I’m pretty infamous already, which is why I avoid Googling myself. Too much bad press. None of the facts are true, but the pictures are pretty accurate. 

I wouldn’t be doing all this if it weren’t for the pears. 

This year was touch and go. All my trees got aphids. I walked outside one morning and thought someone had thrown rice at them; each leaf was covered, crawling with them. You can’t mess around with aphids. Breaks my heart that something so small can take down something so strong.

But they pulled through. And the pears are so beautiful. And surprisingly - way more than I could ever eat. Thinking of them rotting on the ground makes me sick - just tossed aside. They’re more sweet than you could imagine. Usually it’s enough for me and a few helpful deer, but this year there’s bushels extra. 

So I’ve considered several options. 

I can’t go sell them to people in person, obviously. I’ve done my best with the smell and the hair, but my size can’t be helped. People make a lot of assumptions. I’ve learned to stay out of the way. There have been a few slip-ups over the years, ending up in those pictures on the Internet, and honestly I don’t know how they even happened; I’m so careful. But there you are. Nobody’s perfect. 

I read that you can pick a name by thinking of things you love. So I wrote a list: woods, trees, sun, moon, stars, wind. What I like most is walking in the forest right after the rain, but I’ve learned the hard way it’s not a good idea. Rain leads to mud, and mud leads to footprints, and footprints are big problems for someone like me.

“Pear Store” sounds stupid, but there might be something I can work with. Not many people know that here are seven stages of the pear bud. My favorite is the one called “bud burst.” It’s ugly as hell - the fat tip splits and a tentacled thing pokes out. You’d never know that something so great is tucked inside. If you didn’t know better, you’d walk away and call the whole thing a freak of nature. 

That’s what I’m going with. 

“Bud Burst Pears: Grown with Care in Washington State.”