Pick My Cherry
I love dayscursions. Most recently, my group of friends and I decided to jump at the opportunity to go pay to pick cherries. Actually, it was not in that particular order; we had to pick the cherries ourselves first, then upon exiting, we had to pay for whatever we took out with us. Yes, quite counter intuitive, but reality nonetheless.
It was the hottest day of Spring and we drove over an hour to do some heavy manual labor. After parking in the heap of dust that was the parking lot, we slapped on some last minute sunscreen thus beginning our trek to the rows and rows of cherry trees. Upon entry, we were greeted by a tall man (actually a short man on a high platform) who informed us of the policies and procedures. We quickly obliged just to get out of the sun, grabbed a red bucket, and ran for the droves of ripe, red cherries awaiting our hungry fingers. We walked, walked, and walked until we spotted our unsuspecting prey and attacked. We spotted and struck with such veracity that others were wary to step in our paths.
It was hot, we were sweating and on a mission. To be honest, we did a lot more searching than actual picking. The season had just begun (literally a couple days before our visit) and there was still not a lot of fresh, ripe stock to pick from. Empathetic to the mission of finding the reddest and most delicious cherry, we succeeding in picking anything and everything that we found suitable to be picked. Mostly tart, semi-red, and semi-precious, we were determined to leave with a respectable bounty and so we did. After getting scratched by every branch, climbing the nimble trees, and scrounging up anything we can eat; I eventually threw in my wet tank top I had been wearing and left with a third of my bucket full. $10 later, we were on the road to the nearest In-N-Out.
Cherry picking was the most physically draining leisurely activity that I had to pay for in my entire life. I have a new found respect for those who labor all day to pick these small orbs of culinary pleasure and have retired to the inevitability of just going to the grocery store and paying whatever it costs to just have some cherries on the table.
Now that we have picked the cherries, the next dayscursion will have to be selling them at freeway exits. I’m sweating just thinking about it.