Friday, June 15, 2012

The Final Chapter of the Cherry Chronicles

Once again The Hillbilly has survived another cherry-picking season with most of his body parts intact. Here he is to tell you about it:

 Well today, I decided that my post will be an end to the cherry tree chronicles. After having picked about 65 gallons of cherries, (not counting the three or four gallons I ate to, ahem, test to make sure that what I was picking was ripe), I called it good.  There are probably  six gallons still in the trees but they are either unreachable or almost unreachable.

The Athlete and The Princess in the cherry tree.
In fact, I had decided I was done when my granddaughter The Princess asked, "Can you fill up my purse with cherries?"  I answered her by saying “Sure. Bring me the purse”. That was a mistake! I looked the tree over and decided to use the 6’ ladder unopened and wedged against the tree.  

That's the 6-foot ladder on the left.

I proceeded to climb up on to the top (not a step) and stretch out as far as I could. I had picked just enough to fill her purse when the ladder decided to drop out from under me.  Fortunately, with nary a cherry lost, I was able to grab a limb with my right arm and dangle on it until I could walk myself down. I calmly told The Princess, "The ladder fell, didn’t it? Can you come get this purse?" I then jumped off the opposite side of the tree. Another successful season! No major injuries and only sore fingers and limb scratches. Yes!!!

Now for the aftermath, my yard looks like it is the mythical place where cherries go to die.  Oh wait, that refers to elephants doesn’t it? No, elephants don’t come to my yard to die.  That would be a mess. Literally! They would probably all have to poop, which would require a huge pooper scooper. Neighbors would frown! Flies would be everywhere! The government would be after me because of all the ivory bans and so on!  It would just be silly! So instead, I have little cherry skeletons and cherry pits lying everywhere. It is messy, but not elephant graveyard messy.



Not like this.
I made obvious in my last post that my wife made me a wonderful cherry pie. I am more of a cookie baker.  I bake tons of cookies. In fact, we babysat The Princess and The Monster the other day, and The Monster, now 17 months old, when he heard they were coming to our house, says, "Papa ---cookie." Oh how the mighty have fallen!  Instead of the macho, strong, suave redneck hillbilly, I am now Papa ---cookie!  

The Monster (just trust me)
Oh well, I am now trying to figure out how I can make a good bread out of some of these cherries. Cynthia or I will let you know how that turns out.
 

Have a cherry of a weekend!
From the Hillbilly’s Corner!







I tweeted about my 61-year-old Hillbilly standing on the "not a step" of a 10-foot ladder which caused a friend to ask her husband of the same age, "Do you ever stand on the 'not a step'?" His answer? "Every day." We are in agreement that men all think they're 16 and invincible. 


How about your man? Is he 16 and invincible? Men, are you that way? Why, why why??



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