We are currently in vacation-mode, with a couple of timed reality-breaks, playing mostly in the Okanagan Valley. For the last week we have been eating a lot of fresh, locally grown cherries.
As a very precocious seven-year-old, I read Erma Bombeck‘s “If Life is a Bowl of Cherries, What am I Doing in the Pits?” It was summer, I was staying with one of my aunts and had run out of books, due to the voracious nature of my reading. I remember squinting my way through that book, not really getting most of it, but being enamoured with it’s humor.
Life seems to be moving at a much more rapid pace lately, with crisis popping up where it is least expected and a sudden hook in the road turning bearings Northwest, and this cherry/pits thing has been turning over in my mind. The dichotomy of the sweet, rich flesh and the hard pebble of pit. And within the pit: promise of future growth given the right conditions.
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