When we bought our house in 2013, I was gifted with my very first fruit tree. I have to be honest, when we originally moved in, all I saw was a pretty purple tree in my backyard. It was when the tree started to fruit that I realized it was a black cherry tree.
I waited too long to pick most of its fruit, and many birds beat me to it. One weekend, with a sling bag on my hip, I climbed my cherry tree and picked what was left of the fruit. I didn’t know what to do with the fruit, and most of the cherries were squished in my bag because they where too ripe. After the adventure of pitting the cherries BY HAND, I decided to preserve the cherries. I dusted off my old Ball Canning Book, and got to work.
The first batch yielded only ten 12 oz. jars. Since then, I have learned the tricks of the trade a bit more and last summer I was able to make four dozen jars of black cherry jam. My friends and family alike enjoy the sweet treats my cherry tree so graciously provides each summer. The cherry tree, for me, provides so much more. I know the crisp winter air is behind me when I see its dazzling pink blossoms. I seek solace in its branches when I climb its limbs, my same sling bag in tow.
The rain graced my face last June as I climbed to the tallest branch that would hold me. I remember smiling up at the sky. Life is so beautiful, sometimes in the simplest of ways.
So, for me, the cherry tree provides so much more.