Sweet Cherry Pie

It’s cherry season here in WA state and all the grocery stores and produce markets are just bursting with piles of the deep red fruit. Unbelievably, I’ve never made a cherry pie before. Sad. So I’ll be making a few late Friday for sale at the Farmer’s Market on Saturday. With a quick practice run tonight. I don’t think my husband will mind being the tester for this.

I just love cherries. They’re clean to eat and deliciously sweet. And they don’t stir up my oral allergies so I’m able to enjoy them without the typical problems that usually come with most fresh fruits for me. Cherry Cobbler. Cherry Crisp. Cherry Pies. Cherry sauce on a bowl of homemade ice cream. It all screams summer.

And it reminds me of when we were newly married. Just a few years in. We were renting this crooked little home in town here and in the front yard was a giant cherry tree. All winter long I looked at that tree and daydreamed about summer and the bounty of cherries that would fill my house.

Spring came and the tree bloomed. A cherry tree in full bloom is a breathtaking sight. And this one was no exception. The blooms fell and then one day I saw actual cherries growing. My heart beat excitedly as I rushed into the house to phone my mom and crow with delight over the thousands of cherries growing in my tree.

Each week saw the cherries growing larger and gradually turning color. Finally, after what seemed an eternity of endless waiting, I called my mom over to tell me if they were ready for the picking. She walked around the tree and picked a few cherries from the lower lying branches and then determined that yes, they were ready to be picked. With plans for a grand cherry picking party the next day, I went into the house to prepare dinner.

Later that night, as dusk approached, I stood outside with my husband and waxed poetic on all the tasty cherry dishes he would be enjoying. As we stood talking, we heard a large flock of crows passing by. Thousands of the birds, all cawing at once. The sound grew louder and louder still. It was nearly deafening. And then the heavens dropped – crows by the thousands came swooping in and landed in our cherry tree. I started forward to view this amazing sight when I caught sight of one big crow on a lower branch. EATING A CHERRY. I could only watch in horror as this action was repeated by every crow in the tree.

It only took a few short minutes and the flock lifted off to pillage another tree. Another person’s dreams. I was left standing in the yard looking in desolation at what had been a bumper crop of cherries just moments before. Now, stripped bare. Not a single cherry remained on the tree. I cried as my dreams of cherry domination flew off into the dusky sky.

I’ve never since seen anything like the sight of those crows stripping the fruit clean. How did they know the cherries were ripe? How did they know that the next evening there would be no cherries left for them? Was there a crow spy hanging about reporting back to the flock when they heard our plans for picking? Whatever the case. It was a sad day at our house that night. No cherry pies. No cherry crisps. No cherry jam.

Lousy crows.