The dark red orbs of cherries shone amongst the leaves and branches above me. Those at eye level were still a pale red. We’d picked the best of what we could reach from the ground already. Now it was time to go higher.
I angled the ladder against the tree trunk and climbed higher into the branches, stretching up and out for the juiciest, reddest of cherries. Then I climbed back down, repositioned the ladder, and did it all again. And again. And again. Randy did the same thing on the other side of the tree.
It’s cherry harvesting time here in western Washington! It just wouldn’t be summer without them.
To us, summer life really is a bowl of cherries.
Few things are tastier than sweet, just-picked Rainer or Bing cherries. We keep bowls of cherries—and later, blueberries—out for snacking in the same way other people put out apples or candy.
For a kid from Oklahoma, where—growing up—there were pecan, pear, and persimmon trees aplenty, but no cherry trees that I knew of, the ability to grow our own cherries is immensely satisfying. (I think that about blueberries, too.)
It will take Randy and me a couple of afternoons to hand-pick each cherry. We’ll wash them, inspect them, and savor an abundance of fresh cherries as long as we can. The rest, we’ll pit and freeze for smoothies and cobblers throughout the year, or dehydrate for granola. It’s work, but it’s worth it.
The birds will get their share, too. I just wish they’d take that share from the tops of the trees—places we either can’t or don’t want to try to reach. Alas, tis not the case! They get the succulent fruit from the tree tops…and whatever they choose from the bottom and middle, too.
Bird tape helps. There’s an uneasy truce. Last year, the birds won.
We had delayed tying reflective bird tape to the trees, and we seemed to have so many cherries that we thought the deterrent wouldn’t matter much.
The cherries were just turning deep red, and the trees laden with as many cherries as we’d ever seen on these two tree. Just a few more days and they’d be perfect, and then we would haul out the ladders, we decided. So, we waited.
Two days later, I asked our sons to set up the ladders in the orchard. The conversation went something like this:
“Why?” they asked.
“For the cherries,” I replied.
“What cherries?”
“On the cherry trees. They’re covered with cherries.”
“No, they’re not.”
Sadly, they were right. In the two days – two days! – since I had inspected the trees, every single cherry had been removed. Every single cherry!
How many synonyms can you think of for shocked? I was every single one of them.
This year, we put up bird tape early.
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This brings back fond memories of climbing up the cherry tree on our farm in Iowa and seeing who could eat more, the birds or us. If we didn’t it them, we knew the birds would.
In the end, we got over three gallons of pitted cherries, all packaged in 4 quart bags and safe in the deep freeze. Nothing beats a summer treat as a cherry/lemonade smoothie!