Cherry season is here at last (I heart cherry season)! Even now that I’m lucky enough to be able to get cherries just about any time of the year, I wait. I started eyeing them last month, when they first turned up at Â£6 for a half a kilo (around 12 sad pathetic weak dollars a pound). But I waited, less out a sensible frugality than for the same reason that I don’t celebrate Christmas in November, no matter how damn early the stores drag out the decorations.
Instead I watched and waited for the price drop that swings open the door of cherry season like the fiscal Advent calendar.
So how appropriate that my mom sent this just days before my first cherry acquisition of the year:
Meet your Great Grandpa James! He loved cherries. I have fond memories of him piling us into the car and driving to the cherry orchards every weekend during cherry season. All of us (including him) would pick/eat as many cherries as we could. He always had a big smile in a cherry orchard. He died when you were 8 months old.
She attached two pictures, and noted that she’d used her new computer, its Comic Life program, and the scanner “to tweak the original photo enough to finally see his happy face.” Behold: