Growing up we had access to loads of fruit trees and berry bushes. Our yard alone had cherry and pear trees, currant, elderberry, and mulberry bushes (so messy!) and a token walnut tree. Picking up the pears which fell from the loaded trees was not a favorite activity but necessary for the sake of the dog. He would get tipsy from the rotting fruit.
My grandfather would take all of the walnuts we harvested and shuck and crack them for us, returning them for our consumption. Dad made wine with the berries, although we occasionally grabbed a snack from those bushes. The cherry trees were mine. I picked, pitted, and made pies from them. As a matter of fact, the first day I was out of school as a senior in high school, that was my activity for the day. Seniors were graduated a week before the rest of the students were released. Really? I couldn’t think of anything better to do with my freedom?
The cherries on my little wimpy trees in my current backyard have netted me zero pies since I planted them. That is because I let the birds feast – my timing with picking the fruit has never been good. I figure someone is enjoying them. My pear trees are ornamental only, yielding nothing but blossoms of beauty. No rotting fruit to worry about.
It’s that type of weather today – the “I’m itching to plant and grow food” type. Grand thoughts of raised beds with weedless vistas of produce and a small orchard of fruit trees dance in my head. Either that or I enjoy the “fruits” of my friends’ labors. Hm. I’ll ponder that thought until the next snowstorm.
