Cherries

The cherries became ripe last weekend, and it bacame a competition in our family to see who could get them from Milan's dad first. Every day he says to me, "Pick the cherries. They won't be good next week".

Saturday I hauled my butt up on the roof the the rabbit house and picked to my heart's content. We ate them all in about two days, and I went back for more on Monday. I was really glad I went up there though because it afforded me a unique view of Grinava, a village I've grown to like very much.


No jam from the cherries, but lots of spitting pits the same way we do from the boat on hot summer days, only for us, here, we're spitting into the woods or the garden. Sometimes I spit them at the chickens for fun.

I have a lot more picking and spitting to do today. So, more later.