In the olden days, Armenia had as many people as peach trees. When a new baby was born into any family, the goddess of beauty Astghik appeared and threw a peach pit by the door of the house. It was her way of blessing the parents and relatives of the newborn. The father or the grandfather of the child would step outside the door, pick up the peach pit, and plant it in his garden. When the pit took root, becoming a sapling, the child learned to stand and began to walk. When the seedlings sprouted flowers, the child learned its first words. And as the house was filling with the joy of a growing and maturing child, so too the peach tree grew and blossomed with pink flowers, becoming the pride of the garden where its loveliness and fragrance stood out among other flowering trees. Both the child and the tree were beautiful: after all, the goddess of beauty herself created their union. As the voice of the child grew louder and more confident, the peach tree’s fragrance grew ever so stronger. And so it would come to pass that the garden, and the house, and the hearts of all the people living in it were filled with the aroma of the peach tree – the true nectar of love.
That was why in ancient times people did not speak, but sang and their words were words to a song, a song beautiful and pure. And their language was like a music sheet for a divine melody. As for the Armenian language, they called it the language of kings.
But if someone forgot to step outside the door to pick up the peach pit and plant a tree on a child’s birthday, whether for lack of time or because of a simple misunderstanding, then the earth would lose a whole fraction of unique peach flavour.