Cherries and cold feet

Remember this? And this? It's starting to get a tradition: ending up in some cherry haven. Save for a few doves and pheasants, my sister and I had the key and the kingdom all to ourselves last Friday evening before dusk, on a weekend with cool temperatures. Key ingredients were rain, some moldy cherries, wet grass and feet, and not bothering to bring a ladder. Still, this was our yield in one hour of steadily eating and picking from a rich variety of cherry trees.