George Powers had two cherry trees on his property. He had a few other fruit trees, but those trees didn’t produce like the cherry trees. George lived two houses south of us. I would walk through Johanna Scanlon’s property next door, go over the fence, which was almost hidden by undergrowth and up against some of the best rhubarb in town, and onto George’s property. The cherry trees were just on the other side of the fence.
I know George didn’t plant the trees; they were fully grown and I don’t think he lived there with his family all that long.
I would climb into the tree and sit on a branch, reach out and begin harvesting cherries, spitting seeds onto the ground beneath me. These cherries were the bright red tart type, not the meaty dark red variety found in grocery stores. If they were poisoned with chemicals, I wouldn’t have cared. I never got sick, even considering the amount of fruit I ate.
A memory spark ignited when I saw cherry juice at COSTCO. Two half-gallon jugs cost $9.99. To me, that’s a bargain. Since I was a kid, I have not tasted anything close to the taste of George’s cherries. The cherry juice at COSTCO has all the tartness of George’s cherries. And the juice at COSTCO has no added sugars or preservatives. The only ingredient is tart cherry juice. I mix it with a bit of water; carbonated water, when I have it on hand.
Cherry is my favorite flavor. Whenever I’m in a place that has a soda fountain, I will always order a cherry phosphate. I ate Luden’s and Smith Brother’s cherry cough drops even when I didn’t have a cough. I love cherry pie, cherry turnovers, and cherry everything. Stephanie and I had cherry cider at our wedding, purchased from Small’s Fruit Farm in Mondamin, Iowa.
We have apple trees, a pear tree, a peach tree, and blackberry and black raspberry bushes in our yard. However, for some reason, we have no cherry trees. We did have a cherry bush. It was weird; there were no stems, just small cherries. It may have been a Canadian variety. If we did have a cherry tree in the back yard, I can imagine some kid would sit in a tree in the back yard spitting seeds out on the lawn.
One day, I was sitting in George’s tree enjoying the cherries when George came out on the back porch and yelled at me. “You damn kids get out of that tree!” I was the only one there. ‘Ha!’ I thought. ‘The joke’s on you. There’s no one here but me and a few birds.’ I was going to wait for him to come down off the porch before I made a decision. He went back into the house.
Oh, how I miss those cherries.
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You are correct, Pam. The house you lived in on top of the hill is on Camden St. In the 70s & 80s I lived across the street (where there was no house when you lived there).
We use to pick raspberries from bushes up by the old school grounds across from the park with the water tower. I think it all houses in that area now.
The streets in Vail now have names too!
MO, I remember many of us kids carrying salt shakers during this time of the year, especially at night. Roy Abbott had the best!
Another great memory M.T., I certainly enjoyed those trees several seasons too. I remember traveling the alleyways of Vail to sample fresh fruit and berries. There were multiple varieties of apples and plums around town, and I especially remember gooseberries behind Tracy North’s house up on the hill toward beer can alley. Across the street to the north from him, on the corner, there was a huge delicious apple tree, the last ones to ripen each year. I don’t remember getting chased away from fruit and berry foraging, but man I do recall getting in trouble sampling tomatoes, I recall carrying a salt shaker with me on some of those ventures!