He said to me, "We have reached that point in the summer when every day needs to involve harvesting fruit of some kind." At the time, he was on a ladder and I on the ground, both of us furiously pulling cherries off the tree, filling repurposed plastic tubs over and over. The sour cherry tree was the first fruit tree we planted nine years ago. From the next spring on, it has been our second leading producer of fruit on the property, only surpassed by the raspberries that try to take over the world every year. We had one single year when a late frost knocked out the bulk of the fruit, but every other year has been gangbusters.
The hardest part is getting the cloud cover and cool enough weather in July to pick them. The worst job is pitting them. I suggested we pick a series on TV to binge, while we pass the pitters back and forth. It is a messy, sticky process, but having a movie or something to distract helps greatly. This year we got so much it will need to be a series, not just a single flick. I pulled out the largest stainless steel bowl I own, and we filled it to mounding. There are still plenty of cherries on the tree--enough that we suggested the neighbors grab a pint or two to snack on any time they want to come pick them.
We still haven't gotten more canning supplies, but with the amount of fruit we are getting this year, that will be the only thing we can do with it. Well, that or buy a chest freezer. I think I'd rather can up some pie filling and try that maraschino recipe I saw a few weeks ago.
And for some reason, I keep thinking of Erma Bombeck books from my childhood.
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