Every year around this time since I've been a little girl I've had to pick cherries. I've grown up with a sour cherry tree in the back yard. There have been only two years that we didn't pick and that's because the first tree had succumbed to a common cherry tree illness and had been replaced with a new tree that had yet to produce any produce. I've been racking my brain trying to come up with a way to explain the dichotomy of my family's relationship with these cherries.
When I was a child the day to pick cherries had some joy attached because everyone was involved, often even some family friends, and we'd turn it into a party of sorts. We'd have a BBQ and with an above ground pool in the backyard how can you go wrong? Well, now it is a challenge to get everyone there on the same day nevermind the same time and the work required comes with dread. It's funny because every one wants the cherries but no one wants to do what has to be done to get them. Ideally, they should be picked, pitted and canned in the same day. If you're thinking that sounds like a long day with a lot of work, you'd be right. The last couple years I have been unable to help with any of these processes due to Brad and myself being out of town, and I feel right guilty about it because I was still able to reap the rewards. Beautiful jars filled with lovely red balls of deliciousness.
This year I was picking with my dad and my niece Jenna and there were many, many cherries. So many, in fact that we were unable to pick them all in one day.
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