Mr. Smith’s Peach Seeds

In 1968 Roger Smith ate a peach during a break from work. When he was finished he took out a pocketknife and began carving the peach pit into a tiny pig. 43 years later the retired meter reader and cattle rancher from Culloeka, Tennessee, has carved hundreds of peach seeds into hummingbirds, stingrays, gospel choirs, entire villages, even a baseball stadium with more than 100 figures. "Given enough time," says Smith, "I don't think there is anything you can't make out of a peach seed." In 1968 Roger Smith ate a peach during a break from work. When he was finished he took out a pocketknife and began carving the peach pit into a tiny pig. 43 years later the retired meter reader and cattle rancher from Culloeka, Tennessee, has carved hundreds of peach seeds into hummingbirds, stingrays, gospel choirs, entire villages, even a baseball stadium with more than 100 figures. "Given enough time," says Smith, "I don't think there is anything you can't make out of a peach seed." In 1968 Roger Smith ate a peach during a break from work. When he was finished he took out a pocketknife and began carving the peach pit into a tiny pig. 43 years later the retired meter reader and cattle rancher from Culloeka, Tennessee, has carved hundreds of peach seeds into hummingbirds, stingrays, gospel choirs, entire villages, even a baseball stadium with more than 100 figures. "Given enough time," says Smith, "I don't think there is anything you can't make out of a peach seed." In 1968 Roger Smith ate a peach during a break from work. When he was finished he took out a pocketknife and began carving the peach pit into a tiny pig. 43 years later the retired meter reader and cattle rancher from Culloeka, Tennessee, has carved hundreds of peach seeds into hummingbirds, stingrays, gospel choirs, entire villages, even a baseball stadium with more than 100 figures. "Given enough time," says Smith, "I don't think there is anything you can't make out of a peach seed."