Harvest is upon us and the bulk of this weekend was spent picking the cherry crop. We sent in nearly 2000 pounds of the ruby gems, which isn’t too shabby considering this was the first real harvest the new trees had produced.
We had a good strong crew picking in the field and I was one of the chosen few who was on sorting duty. Remember that hail storm we were graced with on our baby’s birthday? Well it did a good job of dinging up the fruit, to say the least, so I got to man the line and inspect every bucket of cherries to toss the bad ones.
That’s my kind of orchard work: sitting on my duff in the shade.
I ran a “one for me, one for the bucket” kind of operation. Needless to say, it’s been a gassy weekend.
Speaking of gas and all things smelly, we’ve been dog-sitting Christy’s puppy Max and while he is quite adorable, he’s taken to crouching in our laundry room twice a day and leaving a hot, steaming pile of logs.
My favourite thing about him (after his lovely laundry room deposits, of course) is how his head is thrice the size of his body. He and Rolo have had a grand ol’ time chasing each other through the apple rows. However, you can call our place Brokeback Orchard, as Max and Rolo have found a special kind of forbidden love this weekend. Max discovered the fine art of air-humping and Rolo did not object. Soon Max will be a eunuch like Rolo and their friendship will become platonic again. It’s less awkward that way.
We’ve got about a hundred pounds of cherries in cold storage in our garage that we’re planning to sell privately so if you’re feeling the need for some crispy, juicy goodness just call or email or leave a comment and we’ll hook you up.