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Another Day in the Country

By PAT WICK

© Another Day in the Country

In our household, cherry pie is our favorite. There is nothing to compare — nothing better, except perhaps cherry pie with ice cream!

We come from a long line of cherry pie experts. My Grandma Ehrhardt was the best cook I've ever known and she made wonderful everything — including cherry pie. Her daughter, my Aunt Naomi, followed in her footsteps and may even have made better cherry pie than Grandma. Aunt Naomi's pies had wonderful crust — flaky and tender, which she said, "I learned to make when I worked over at the Sale Barn in Herington."

The very best cherry pies must be made with tart cherries — not those pie mixes that come pre-sweetened. And the very best of the BEST pies are made with fresh, tart, red cherries that are picked in early summer right off a cherry tree.

You might guess, then, that as soon as we moved back to Ramona, I planted a tart pie cherry tree in my backyard. And then we waited for it to "grow up," so to speak. Last year, the cherry tree was whomped by that April storm that swept through Kansas and all the blossoms were frozen. But this year, that little tree bloomed its head off — almost like it was trying to make up for the cherry famine the year before.

My mother loved picking cherries — so much so that she'd watch for cherry trees along the road and if no one seemed to be picking those cherries she'd get my dad to stop the car and she'd go ask. "Are you going to pick those cherries? Oh, you aren't? Would you mind if we did?" And then she'd compensate the soul who allowed her to pick their fruit with one of her baked goodies. This begging for cherries always embarrassed me as a kid. Mom just said, "Waste not, want not!" and went on watching for cherries.

The first year that our tree produced any cherries to speak of, I asked Mom — well up in years by then — if she wanted to help me pick them. "Of course, I do!" she said. I got her a chair to sit on and we made our journey out to the cherry tree. Mom sat in the chair and picked the lower branches and I took care of the high part. Our tree is a smaller variety of tree which will never require a ladder or climbing up into its branches and thus it gives us smaller cherries. It's amazing just how many of these mini-cherries it takes to make a pie.

As Mom and I picked cherries on that gorgeous summer day, I was remembering all the cherries we'd picked through the years — a lot! And we were laughing about all the incongruent places she'd spotted cherries . . . ditches, the interstate, office parking lots, strangers' yards. Nothing deterred her from a cherry spotting — even if we were a long way from home.

"Oh where have you been Billy Boy, Billy Boy," Mom would sing as we picked cherries. "Oh where have you been Charming Billy." It was one song, beside hymns, that she knew all the words to. "Can she bake a cherry pie, Billy Boy?" she'd continue and I'd sing along with her.

On this day, Mom volunteered to make the pies. Since we didn't have a lot of coveted cherries on this first picking, I thought she would make one pie and perhaps freeze the rest for a second pie . . . or at least I was hoping for that outcome — you know, make these precious cherries stretch a little. But later in the day when she called to say that fresh cherry pie was waiting for us I discovered she'd stuffed every single cherry we picked into one pie. Those cherries were dense but the pie was still delicious.

This year my cherry tree is absolutely covered with cherries. And even though Mom is gone, she and I went out to pick those cherries. It wasn't so much fun without her even though I was singing the Billy Boy song. I picked a pail full and then went in to pit the cherries — which also takes patience that I don't have. All together, picking a pail of cherries, pitting those little sweeties, making the crust and baking — it took two and a half hours to make one cherry pie! (I also froze one pies-worth of cherries for another day). That's labor intensive!

The next day I went out again and picked cherries until I began talking to the cherries and got three more pies-worth of cherries. "This is tedious," I muttered and since there was still a piece of cherry pie in the fridge, I lacked motivation to keep picking and pitting (which is the worst part).

It's another day in the country and there are still quite a few pies hanging on my cherry tree. I've had it! Anyone want cherries?

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