Yes indeed, Mark -- my Mom, God bless her, used to say that all the time. Enjoy the cherries!
Having young boys (or I suppose, youg girls) is a wonderful way to remember what living is all about.
Two of the best batches of beer I ever made were both made with fresh cherries.
..".wild dryad sort of dance......"
Wassat???
God is very good.
Very nice. Now get back to work.
I think that I shall never see
Prose like Mark's on the cherry tree.
A tree whose dryad arms wave wild
Round both the grown and growing child;
A tree that fills a warm gray day
With joy like sunshine's piercing ray;
A tree bejeweled, sparkling, draped
With dark rich red and kingly cape;
A tree whose choicest gifts are seen
And snatched, and given to a Queen.
Though this I write with stolen style
Joyce Kilmer, reading Mark, would smile.
You're lucky the birds didn't get to them first.
Um, praise Washington rain if you like, but talk to any cherry grower and they'll tell you that rain RUINS cherries. Either you lucked out on the timing or you are conveniently not mentioning losses to rain.
Still, God IS good. 
The Japanese know quite well how beautiful cherry trees are. Heck, they organize parties around watching cherry blossoms fall.
God is good indeed.
Wow, Jonathan, that sounds really cool (Japanese cherry tree deflowering parties).
Mark, your blogpost reminds me of a rather nice post my brother did about spittin' cherries with the kids. It gets better towards the end.
http://twocitiestwowheels.blogsp...n-
cherries.html
beautiful, beautiful, beautiful!
Yep. Richer than Bill Gates.
Nice story, Mark, and it brought back many fond memories!
When I was growing up, we had a large black cherry tree in our (tiny) back yard; and when I say tiny, I mean *tiny* - we're talking about maybe a fifteen by fifteen foot area, backing up to a service alley. This was an old, inner-city, rowhouse neighborhood, and we had one of only two trees on the block - kinda like "A Tree Grows in Brooklyn," only it wasn't Brooklyn.
Anyway, we also used to harvest the cherries each summer, and it was a lot of fun; if we didn't do it, the birds would get to the tree and make a mess of it, leaving stems (and cherry-colored bird poop) all over the place (and parked cars), which didn't exactly endear us to our neighbors.
Thanks for the stroll down Memory Lane!
Hmmm... I should go check and see if the red currents we have in our back yard have been eaten by the birds yet.
Hidden One,
If they have, you'll know it soon enough!
Ahhh...I remember. When I was 6 or 7, and living in DC. There was a fuel oil yard on the route to and from John Greenleaf Whittier Elementary that had cherry trees up against their fence. We imps would climb up on top of the greasy oily fuel trucks and pick and eat until we near turned green!
(And we never, ever, had an Angry Grownup come charging up to us, running us off.)
Reminds me of the pie cherry tree in our neighbor's yard that hung partly over into ours. The friendly rule was that the cherries on our side were ours.
Standing with our feet in the chain-link fence, we were scrupulous about picking cherries that didn't break the plane, and they tasted better that way, for some reason. That sun-warmed, sour, spicy taste...
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