I picked the first pound of the sour cherries. The best part of having a rare (for here) tree is inviting friends over to come help themselves, but I’m not seeing much gleaning possibilities this year; the unusual rain in May wiped out a lot of the fruit set. I’m thinking we’ll get about three pies for the entire year.

But the cherries there are are the bigger for it, so, less work to process.

The sweet cherry tree had only just opened its flowers when that storm hit. We got one single cherry from it and it had five peck marks but I finally found one and it was mine and I brought it inside. Just…I tried to get myself to…don’t ask me to eat that–they wouldn’t…

The faster I get the white afghan done the faster I can go play with colorwork again. Twelve rows. Ice packs. The cabled rocks are deliberately random but it works because I said so and I would tell you how many there were but then I’d have to pull it out of the protecting zipped tote where I’ve stashed it for the night.

Besides, then I’d knit some more on it and it’s getting late.

It rained again last night. So odd.