Cherries are a happy fruit.
I’ve blogged before about how our little Oxfordshire village was once the centre of the cherry-growing world. How many hundreds of years back our cherry heritage goes depends on which direction Google takes you, but I’ve seen mention of the 1500s, which is at least mildly impressive. There are stories of professional bird-scarers starting their work at 5am during the fruiting season. Frankly, that sounds like a job I could do, other than the getting-up-early bit. I’d quite enjoy leaping around a cherry orchard shouting wildly at the birds.
Sadly, precious few cherries are grown commercially round here any more, but we still have plenty of remnants of that once-munchable industry. First, the poplar windbreaks that these days enclose sheep and cattle, but which once sheltered precious orchards:-
And the historic Cherry Barns, that are now a commercial premises. And if you wander the many paths around the village, you’ll find remaining cherry trees in hedgerows and verges, currently laden with swelling fruit. Why have the birds not stolen those unprotected beauties?
In the pub across the road from our home, there’s a picture from the 1950s of cherry pickers in the village. My photo of it is slightly rubbish, but I felt like an idiot hovering next to the bar taking pictures of the wall, so I had to hurry:-
Of course, this is a knitting and crochet blog, so I started thinking about making cherries, and YES!, my book of knitted/crochet flowers* has a cherry pattern. Here’s what I’ve made thus far:-
And in the spirit of yarn-bombing, I’ve hung it on the front door in honour of the Cherry Season. True locals will understand the sentiment:-
There is one cherry orchard still very much in production locally, so I took the Toddler Twinnage to buy some of their produce:-
They’re dark and fat and luscious. You’re welcome to share them, but you’ll have to hurry, because their further survival is likely to be measureable only in minutes.
Now, before I finish, I do feel that I should mention the Storky Scissors. Because to be very grudgingly, belligerently fair, they do seem to get a disproportionate amount of attention and admiration on this blog. But I’m Not Jealous At All. Nooooo. We haven’t had a photo of them yet in this post, have we? OK, here they are:-
(Want to know about the background in this picture? It’s a miniature and surprisingly fluffy replica of the rug that covered Freud’s consulting couch after he moved to London.
Little-known and slightly weird fact: you can buy pictures of Freud’s couch naked, with its adorning rug removed. That’s a bit weird, even for me. Anyway, that’s what you get for having a psychologist write the blog post you’re reading.)
* 100 Flowers To Knit And Crochet, by Lesley Stanfield.