Cherry Picking

Tessa decided that she'd better make me a "to do" list for all the activities we still wanted to accomplish this summer. Honestly, I probably wouldn't have been able to do all I've done without her list. Item number one was "Cherry Picking." Every day for weeks Tessa would ask me if I had called to see if we could go and pick cherries. (Tessa is very fond of cherries.)

We had gone cherry picking a couple of summers ago. It was a relaxing and rewarding outing. The children could climb the trees and fill their pails with red juicy cherries. There are rows and rows of trees to choose from. There is room to roam. The only rule was: We buy what you pick. It truly was a child's haven.

The sad thing about a perfect memory is that it can rarely be duplicated. However, I had no idea how truly awful this years trip to the cherry orchard would be.
It is a 20 minute drive to the grove. There were countless inquiries as to how long it would take. There was fighting over what we were listening to on the radio and who could sing along and who couldn't. When one argument was squelched, another one sprung. I kept thinking that the fighting would cease as soon as we'd reach our destination.

From the moment the car was parked the cries of dissent howled, "It is so hot! I want that bucket! Why does he always get the bigger pail? All of these cherries are too high! I don't want to climb a tree! I am stuck in the tree! There are too many bugs! How come he has more cherries than me? When can we go home? Can I have a cherry? Why do I have to push the stroller? Can I wait in the car?" With other families in the orchard watching us in dismay, I wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. I tried everything I could think of to promote unity and foster love. No such luck. Instead, I think the trees themselves wanted us to go too and eagerly shed their lovely fruit without much prompting to hurry us up.

The cherries were consumed quickly. We all enjoyed them. I am thinking it will take me a full year to decide if I can return to the orchard....because it can always be worse.