Cherry Pie
Last week the girls and I went to my mother-in-law's house to pick cherries. (unfortunately I forgot my camera.) We had fun picking the cherries, and then....
We pitted the cherries.
We baked the pie.
We ate the pie.Partner designers and friends, we make jewelry, art and dabble in antiques! There isn't a craft we aren't willing to try. We love learning and creating and passing these skills on to others.
Last week the girls and I went to my mother-in-law's house to pick cherries. (unfortunately I forgot my camera.) We had fun picking the cherries, and then....
We pitted the cherries.
We baked the pie.
We ate the pie.
The girls and I recently picked cherries at my in-law's house. It was a comical experience to pick fruit from a tree with my two girls, aged 8 and 5 1/2.
Mary, my oldest, could reach higher than her little sister, and was able to reap a bigger bounty. But she would scrutinize each cherry for worm holes and scars from the bird's pecking. She tired of the job after 15 - 20 minutes.
Molly, my youngest, seemed busy as could be. Although she couldn't reach as many, she climbed the step ladder and I thought she was picking away.
After 15 minutes, I had several cups of cherries in my bag. Mary had some cherries, but her perfectionist methods limited her quantity. I asked Molly how many she had, her answer, "three." All she had was three. Amazing. It reminded me of my favorite childhood book, Blueberries for Sal, by Robert McCloskey.
Such is the life of a five year old.