The pretty little “twenty something” that was taking delivery of my cheeses at the farmer’s market held up a Hay Jude for inspection, “So these are the aged ones,”she said.
“No” I replied – “not aged – ripened”.
“Aged, ripened, what’s the difference?” she asked.
As I looked upon her lovely countenance, all well reasoned thought abandoned me.
“I, am” I said “aged – while you are….well ripened”. Her broad smile made it clear she understood.