The cherry tree was a bounteous giver and as the autumn approached there were cherry tarts, cherry pies, cherry jams and, of course, bowls of cherries for the eating.
The kids would sit there with their cherries, competing to see who could spit the pip the farthest.
We sat there in the late August sun eating cherry after cherry, placing the pips in a bowl, feeling their sweetness enter our blood and lift cherry-grins.
The cherries of the late summer were the very deepest of reds, the kind with a perfect touch of black-purple, and were all the sweeter for it.
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