Tom has fond memories of canning cherries from his childhood. I regularly hear the story about his grandfather swinging through the kitchen at the height of the process, grabbing a few out of the bowl, and saying, "I'll can some of those right now," as he popped them in his mouth.
So, the summer of the free (and plentiful) sour cherries remains a very fond memory for Tom. But we haven't been able to find anyplace to get them since we moved to West Virginia.
This year, my sister discovered that her CSA could hook her up with sour cherries, but you had to buy them in quantity--half a bushel, minimum.
So, since we were all coming to Columbus for my nephew's wedding this weekend, Pam picked up the fruit and brought it down, we brought our cherry pitter from Morgantown, and Tom spent five hours pitting them yesterday afternoon and evening, with just a short break for dinner.
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It's been bloody hot everywhere this week, but this kind of bounty is a reminder of what summer is good for. And when we thaw out some of those cherries to make another pie (or cobbler, or crisp, or turnovers) in the middle of next winter, it will be a welcome taste of a different season.