Two words that sing of summer.
Yesterday from Robin Leventhal:
“Sour Cherries. Come pick some…my tree is loaded!”
How can anyone resist words like these? Certainly not me.
With address in hand, I find her sweet house on a shade-tree covered street. On the side a partially open gate and magnificent pie cherry tree beckon to me.
Ripe red pie cherries.
Robin does not exaggerate. This tree is laden with fruit at its peak.
I pick one and pop it into my mouth. Sweet and sour; a perfect blending. Um yum.
One cherry, two cherry, three cherry more…
I feel like I am in a Dr. Seuss story.
“Kate in Cherry-Pie Land.”
I want as many as I can reach…and more.
I see the ladder set against the wall of the flat roof garage. Dare I?
With basket over my arm, I climb and pick. Higher still. The late afternoon wind rustles the leaves. I climbed out onto the top of the roof.
This is great! I am reaching incredible swaths of cherries. Branches with bright red cascading “grapes”.
Pick, pick, pick.
Late afternoon sun is streaming through the leaves. Flavor. Essence. Experience. I am having an umami moment.
Heavy basket now. Pies are calling to me. Down I climb.
I say thank you to the tree and soil, the ladder, roof and Robin. Close the gate and head for home, nourished and full.