It’s cherry time and this year my boyfriend has been determined to get the cherries before the blackbirds and pigeons do. To this end, he has decorated the tree with mobiles in the form of old cds, the flashes off which are enough to blind a cherry-spotting starling at 500 feet up. He even cut a scaredy-cat scarecrow out of an old piece of MDF (see photo). This guy should be on TV, I tell you.
Despite all these precautions, the feathered fiends launched a dawn raid today and by the time the first human patrol checked the tree, their greedy beaks had stripped every fruit above cd level. Now we have done our own picking and the result is my boyfriend’s cherry pie with egg custard. An odd-sounding mix, but it works. If I can prise the recipe out of him, I’ll publish it on a future blog piece.
It’s shaping up for a thunderstorm now. We’ll see how many cherries are left after the wind has whipped through them like a smoothie-maker and hailstones have pulverised the pits.
No comments:
Post a Comment