Wednesday, June 19, 2013


As a means of adjusting to the heat, I take “slow walks” through the back neighbourhoods of Uzhgorod. A cap, sun glasses, and I’m off. I'm trying to train myself to like the heat.

"I feel good. I feel great.

During one of my walks, I discovered the most cherry-stocked cherry tree I’d ever seen in my life. It was dripping with absolutely ripe cherries. As I ate them by the handful, a dog barked to let the neighbourhood know I was enjoying a feast.

The next day, I took a jar and picked some to take home. I'm not sure how legit that was - they were on someone's property, but they were on the road, not behind their fence. I took a note, along with, that Anya had written in Ukrainian that explained who I am and asked if I could pick their cherries. I tr

The whole time I was picking,a  do


1 comment:

  1. Those look like pie cherries to me. If you were in America, my mother could do amazing things with those bad boys. But you are enjoying them as much anyway!


Your words make me grin.

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