Last night we drove from work to an orchard south of Medford and picked 56 pounds of cherries.
Fifty. Six. Pounds. I cannot explain this need for excess. This amounts to about 12 gallons of cherries, and took an hour to pick. The plan is to sit in front of Babylon 5 with large bowls and Ziplock bags and pit, pit, pit, every night until the cherries are gone, throwing the prepped fruit into bags and the bags into the freezer. This weekend we’ll build jam, and I’ll probably snag a few gallons for a small batch of wine and a large batch of cordial. This week, we have bags of cherries in our lunch. Yum!
I’m a little concerned about having 56 pounds of cherries around. Last time I had excessive amounts of fruit, it was pears, and the results … the results are still marked on the ceiling of where I was living at the time. [shrug] eh. Emotional scarring is fun, and sometimes produces a nice essay or two.