After telling my father in law he could cut down the cherry trees for firewood because they no longer made fruit… they pulled a fast one on us. For the first time in three years they are full of cherries. We don’t know what kind they are, varying in golden pink and true cherry red. There are two that sit scattered in a mini orchard planted here decades ago. The only trees that seem to be consistent are the pears which tend to be rock hard and sandy textured but you can make just about anything taste good if it’s in the form of a baked good. Last year I made bourbon pear crumbles for the holidays. The dogs enjoy chewing on them as they fall, or even snatching them off of low hanging branches. The first year we lived at the house our apple trees gave and gave and gave. I had 5 gallon buckets, baskets, and metal mixing bowls filled and scattered all over. When we had bonfires at night you could hear the apples plunking softly in the grass every few minutes. I canned gallons of applesauce and stuffed our pantry. Fittingly for the summer of 2020 none of our fruit trees produced any treats. It was hot, dry, and apparently even the plants were too depressed to make an effort. Two more years went by and we assumed they were too old and had died. I have developed a great admiration for people who tend orchards. Fruit is a total mystery. It requires so much work, care, perfect weather, preventative medicine and needing to move quickly. Fruit seems to show up overnight and then suddenly there are swarms of drunken yellow jackets spending the night in the rotten apple saloon. Which of course makes harvesting a lot less fun.

I was able to have my first garden harvest this week as well. I filled my basket with lemon balm, comfrey, catnip, a pinch of sage, anise hyssop, marigolds for drying, poppies and cosmos for the house. I used my coveted African woven basket that is sun bleached from years of sitting in the garden under the sun as I work through the rows. The basket is always full of sand, garlic skin, ants, and the occasional spider which I’m never 100% able to clean out. Our daughter, Jadzia, has become a zombie making a beeline for the fruit trees knowing there are tiny colored morsels hanging just within reach. Yesterday she helped me fill my old dusty basket with cherries. By helped I mean tossed dandelions and leaves in while she ate the cherries whole… stem and all. She really has a love for sorting, organizing, and order. Three things I am not very familiar with and despite my best efforts are not a consistent part of my routine. So, much of her young life has been spent with me marveling at her hard work and precision stacking boxes, fastidiously using a twig as a screw driver. However foraging has been a nice unexpected cross over of our interests and learning styles. She has a keen eye and remembers what to pick and loves putting it in baskets, pockets, or piles.I have to accept that foraging and gardening will look very different for me for many years to come. I won’t be canning gallons of homemade applesauce anytime soon. Much like she will have to accept I won’t always see the opportunities she sees when it comes to her interests. For now we are amused by each other’s differences and can enjoy the late afternoons of sunlight sifting down through the leaves as we sort into baskets.