Cherry Pie

I grew up playing sports.  In basketball anyone not playing defense in order to get an easy basket was called a cherry picker.  I assumed that meant picking cherries was easy.

Sort of like the term can of corn in baseball.  When a fly ball is easy to catch, it reminded early announcers of a grocer who pulled cans of corn off the top shelf with a pole and caught them in their apron.

Yesterday I picked cherries.  Not so easy.  The limbs are small, the cherries high in the air, and there is no good place to lean a ladder.  Yet for all the trouble, I still think it is worth it.

Years ago Grandma Worrell made cherry pie with them.  We have yearned to do that ourselves.   Yet over the last couple years as soon as they got ripe, birds got them.

Yesterday we picked enough for two pies, and many more will ripen in the next couple days.  Hopefully we will get to them before the birds.  If we do, then the Worrell Reunion will be full of cherry pie courtesy of Aunt Linda.