Your bruises show on your skin.
Where wind and birds have scratched
And clawed at you.
But impenetrable until ripe
Your green skin is freckled and dented.
Even squirrels attempted a nibble
But the weight of your plumpness denied their grip,
Instead hurling you to the hard ground.
Collected to be put into a pie,
Cut up or discarded.
Your fate awaits.
I thought we had eaten all the cherries off out two cherry trees, but Richard went out on some step ladders and a broom today and managed to pull down a couple of branches. He came back with about a third of a bowl of the ripest and darkest cherries we have ever had off the trees.
I was surprised, basically because we leave the top half of the trees to the blackbirds. Every year they eat their fill of them. But its such a pleasure to have the fruit that I don’t begrudge the birds any of them.
At the same time our pear tree is gradually filling with fruits, they are quite well hidden because they are not very big yet. Our pears are the same colour as the foliage so they just don’t show up much against the leaves, where the cherries seem to glow with their internal fire of red.
Small apples are also growing slowly. The weather is hot and dry and the apples are not swelling up much. I’m not sure what sort of crop we will get. Last year all but one of the apples fell off in June so at least we are doing better than that.
We got all the fruit trees from our local Woolworths store. That was a few years ago before the firm went out of business. They were a good bargain.
What did I do with the cherries? Washed and stoned them, then had them with a small amount of vanilla icecream. Delicious and cool. Tasty.