We have a cherry tree in the side yard. I can’t keep up with it. Last year, no problem because the wind had blown 90 percent of the blooms off the tree early in the year. This year, not. It’s loaded and drooping from all the fruit.

The dogs and I have developed a routine around eating cherries.  The new dog picked it right up.

I get home from work, head out to the cherry tree, and start eating whichever cherries are darkest. It’s hard to tell what’s what, because the sun is starting to set and the cherries against the sky all look darker than they are. I’m jumping the gun a little, because they’re mostly not that ripe. Doesn’t really matter, though, I eat them anyway, ’cause that’s how I roll.

The dogs follow me around and vie for the pits I spit. Can’t imagine why. But I guess that’s the way THEY roll. It’s funny to watch (and listen) to them rooting around crunching the pits. If this year follows last year’s pattern, in a day or two the dogs won’t be waiting for the pits, they’ll just graze the tree like deer and go for the cherries. Also very funny to watch.  I should get the husband to take a picture of us all grazing around the cherry tree.

You’ll be happy to know that the cherry tree is fenced off from the dogs during the day so they don’t graze themselves into a stomach ache or a stupor. Well, they do, but it’s only at night, when I’m doing the same thing.