One Day There Were Cherries

We have two cherry trees out back, one slightly more tart than the other. It produces a week before its northern brother.

About two weeks ago I noticed Tree One was loaded and ripe. Because its fruit is not as tasty, I put off picking. And then I noticed its fruit was gone.

Tree Two came on as usual about a week later. It was groaning with dark red fruit.

I’m not missing my window this year, I promised myself. This weekend, for sure, I’ll go out and pick. I didn’t.

One day there were cherries. The next, they were gone, cherry pits all over the ground.

It’s not the birds’ fault, it’s mine for assuming I had lots of time.

What are your assumptions? Does your tree still have fruit? Will you regret not having picked cherries while you could?

I do.

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I like going places: out West, west of the West, and all the way around the back of the globe to the East. I like to go by train, plane, automobile, horseback. Whatever. And I like writing about what I see, feel, hear, smell, and touch all along the way and once I get there.

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