Growing up, the beginning of summer was always accompanied by the beginning of cherry season. My parents have many different fruit trees in their large backyard including two old cherry trees. As soon as the first cherries were ripe enough to eat, my sisters and I would make daily trips out to the yard to pick small buckets of them. For weeks we gorged on these sweet and delicious ruby, red snacks, eating buckets of them at a time. We ate them until the last few were left on the tree, so ripe they were almost black in colour and so, so, so sweet.
It’s been three years since I’ve been home for cherry season. I’ve always resisted buying them from grocery stores in the UK, as they seemed ridiculously overpriced (compared to the free and unlimited I’m used to) and they were never quite as good as the cherries from my parents’ trees. With the warmer weather we’ve been experiencing here, I caved in and bought a couple cartons. Like expected, they weren’t as good as the cherries I’m used to, but they were a nostalgic way to celebrate the change in weather and beginning of summer.