It’s the tail end of cherry season in my yard. I’m providing this hyper-local report because cherry season in this part of Montana is just getting going, but the cherry tree in my yard is done for the year. And I did not get a single cherry.
The birds and squirrels got most of them, but Orly and Cali had their share too.
Cherries are not great for dogs, so for a couple of weeks, I battled the dogs over this. I lost.
I spent a lot of time cleaning up fallen cherries and dropped partially eaten cherries from the ground. This is indeed as much fun as it sounds like it would be.
Nevertheless, those cherries get into every corner, under every leaf and vine, and into the far reaches of the yard. I even saw one hiding under the deck stairs.
Cali is pretty laid back and eats the ones she finds. She’s fully adopted the Koala approach to gobbling them whole, and that is what she taught to Orly.
Orly is a whole different animal. Orly became especially adept at finding cherries; she has an admirable tenacity that I wish she’d apply to more beneficial ends. She spent long stretches of time nosing around the weed-filled, overgrown patch around the cherry tree, apparently with much success — and much effort. Then one day, a cherry fell at just the right moment.
And Orly discovered gravity.
Or she discovered that if she waited long enough, the cherries came to her. The end result is the same: She’d sit, rapt, watching for falling cherries to land in her mouth. Or on her head …
The cherries weren’t even fully ripe at this point, and there were a lot of them. I was looking forward to picking a few pounds; this was the first year the tree has had any fruit at all in a while.
One day, I looked up and saw the perfect shade of red. I called on some friends and we planned to pick the cherries.
But … that afternoon, the squirrels, the birds, and Orly were all very busy.
The next morning, I got out the ladder and looked into the branches. Not a single flash of red. That’s right; the tree had been picked clean!
And, like clockwork, the first few ripe raspberries appeared that very afternoon.
The girls aren’t getting too many of those, unfortunately, because they destroyed most of the raspberry bushes in the yard. I’m getting a nice amount from the surviving canes in the back alley, though, safely out of dog reach.
Up next will be a bumper crop of blackberries, many of which are in dog reach. I’m training to prepare for the competition …