small things #6 ... sweet memories
Driving up to school, we pass any number of popcorn trees. Each pink and white tree prompts Lydia to delightedly point out each one.
"There's a popcorn tree, Mom! And another one! And a pink one! Look, Norah!"
Over the weekend, however, those blossomy bouquets have begun to give way to green buds, bursting into leafiness. Which, of course, prompted the question, "Why?"
"Well ... each of those little blossoms is the start of a something else. Some will turn into apples, some into plums and and some into cherries."
"Oh, yum! I remember we had a cherry tree at our old house."
"You're right, Buddy. And every spring we would fill every bowl and bucket in the house with cherries."
"Remember that picture of me with cherry juice all over my chin?"
A crimson memory prompted to life: Bright red cherries, ripe and ready, hanging precariously on the loaded down branches. A feast for the birds ... and the little boys that lived there.
Sweet memories ... of cherry picking parties and pink, kissable grins.