(WAS) IN SEASON: CHERRIES
- Libby K. Hanaway
- 1 day ago
- 9 min read
Updated: 11 hours ago
A week+ ago — when I finally and belatedly started this post after our multi-directionally curve-balled summer — the "was"* was not in the title; at the time, I thought I could legitimately squeeze cherries into the present summer harvest season. But by now, most domestic cherries have been plucked from trees and — if they haven't already been eaten — are resting in commercial or home refrigerated / freezer storage for a September pie or oven dehydration or your next smoothie.
*"was" is incorrect grammar-wise but it sounds better to me; go ahead and sub "were" if that makes you want to screech!
Despite missing the cherry season window in my posting schedule, we are still going to talk about cherries today because they still matter! Even after being pulled from our old Kenmore garage freezer, these frosted ruby jewels — who lived a short but beautiful life — are ready for their final, delicious act.
I get excited about cherries because we have a young cherry tree in our backyard, making me feel bonded to the likes of George Washington (brace yourself: it's a myth 🫨) and hearty Michigan orchard-keepers. I did not grow up as a cherry-lover, and tbh I'd probably still pick chocolate over cherry for dessert. Rick, by contrast, grew up with a sour cherry tree in his backyard and a mom who could bake a tip-top cherry pie in her sleep. He has always chosen cherry-anything for his birthday or Father's Day (which we four celebrated — with cherry crisp — on July 22nd because it's been that kind of summer). C + E are also Team Cherry, meaning I am the official dark chocolate sheep of the family. Still, it's easy to cheer for cherries!
GROWING CHERRIES
We are very invested in our backyard cherry tree. In late 2021, she landed in our barren new-construction yard, the small, fledgling anchor of a formerly wild, clay-dense weed patch. We learned the only kind of cherries that grow well along Colorado's Front Range are sour cherries; ours is a Montmorency sour cherry tree, its dangling fruit beloved by hungry robins, delicious in any baked good, and well-suited to our mercurial climate patterns.
Our tree was about eight feet tall when planted, and we — as beginner fruit tree-growers — didn't know if it was old enough to produce fruit the following summer. It was! By early July 2022, we had a bumper crop! I bought an OXO cherry pitter, Rick pulled out the short ladder and a bucket, and we set to work.
What beauty! What easy beauty! Unlike tending a summer garden — with its tender baby seedlings, staking strategies, close surveillance, and careful watering — our cherry tree asks little of us beyond a little winter pruning, extra water every so often, and annual deep tree fertilization, a task we hand over to a knowledgeable company. And so its annual bounty — given supportive weather conditions in the preceding months — always feels like a very generous agricultural gift. Bonanza! Abundance! Abbondanza! It's a genuine delight to look across the yard and see our sturdy corner tree studded with small, bright red, shiny globes ... like a giant green ladybug in reverse.
The work required by a backyard cherry tree only kicks in when its annual weeklong harvest season arrives. At our house, Rick is the picker. He now needs a tall ladder and cannot reach the top during his early-morning bucket-filling time; he listens to podcasts and zen-fully reaches for the next and next and next red gem. I am the washer-pitter-freezer, and every year I underestimate how long the process takes. I stand at the sink with pruny fingers and sticky cherry juice splattering the counter, finding the occasional little insect stowaway in the bucket and triple-checking that I get all the pits. [And every year, I warn our cherry-anything eaters that there might be a stray pit AND THERE ALMOST ALWAYS IS. BUT I TRY SO HARD!!]
There are many steps and multiple rounds after Rick hands me the big bucket each morning: wash cherries in colander ➡️ pit and then toss in big bowl ➡️ dump bowl into sieve to drain juice (later drink the juice bc antioxidants and more) ➡️ gently smush handfuls to check for stray pits and drop onto big cookie sheet ➡️ pop cookie sheet in freezer for 30 minutes or whenever I remember to firm them up ➡️ label freezer bags with date ➡️ measure five or six cups into each bag ➡️ stack neatly and satisfyingly in freezer ➡️ use and enjoy any which way for the next 12 months 🍒🍒🍒.
Each July, my morning assembly line reminds me how ill-suited I am for homesteading life. It also re-ignites a deep appreciation for agricultural workers and food processors everywhere; on a large scale, it takes a lot of sweat, effort, and hands to go from seed to pie with cherries. Ditto with every other type of produce.
[I saw a video like this years ago and try to remember it when I pick out my nicely-packaged grapes at Safeway. Applause, thanks, and good pay + conditions for all the farm and ag workers!]
Fruit trees are gambles, offering no guarantees year to year — and it's good to know that going in. We did not fully appreciate this caveat. After 2022's jubilant explosion, here was our yield in 2023:
That's right. One single beautiful cherry. ONE! One on the entire tree!! We could scarcely bring ourselves to eat it.
It's possible/probable that 2023's non-crop was operator error: the tree was jungle-like with jumbo-sized leaves. Maybe a cry of over-fertilization? We dialed it back and then 2024 and 2025 responded with clustered gusto:
2025 2024 2025
After 2023's single cherry harvest, we knew we couldn't expect bushels every year, and the 2026 crop seemed very dicey in the lead-up to the season. With our balmy non-winter, a desert-dry spring, and a heavy, branch-snapping May 5th-6th snowstorm, I could not blame our poor tree for just calling it quits for the year. So we tamped down our expectations, even as the white blossoms had sparkled in early April and the small, olive-green fruit appeared on cue in June and the pink-then-red cherries grew lush and round later that month.
When we returned from Table Rock Lake in early July, our gal had outdone herself once again:
EATING CHERRIES
If you're lucky enough to live close to where sweet, golden-red-peachy-pink Rainier cherries are grown or sold, you are probably already eating them by the handful. They are like fresh fruit candy. When we lived in Seattle, you could mark the blessed transition to summer when the roadside Rainier tents popped up along any busy route and filled the stalls of legendary Pike Place Market. Eat 'em when you can! Though they hail from Washington State, I just learned that Rainiers are also grown along Colorado's hot, sunny Western Slope, giving us a local-ish option just like the old PNW days.
Beyond straight-from-the-box snacking, we have a few cherry-centric recipes we (I) make again and again. Are they the very best ever? I have no idea and make no claims. But we think they are great (in both gluten-free and gluten-full versions), and I am content to stop searching for whatever concoction might be better. Also, despite Rick loving cherry pie specifically, I am not much of an old-fashioned-crust pie baker and have no cherry pie recipes to offer (but feel free to ask his mom, Judy 🥧 🍒 👑!); I am, however, a pretty good shopper:
Father's Day 2025 / Find this hat at Legacy Pie Co. in Denver, CO
CHERRY BARS
NOTES: Go easy on the bottom layer of the crust, especially in the corners. If you are too generous, the bars become slab-like and challenging to bite or fork into. I recently forgot this precaution when I served them with vanilla ice cream to overnight company; one of our guests was struggling to break through the thickness with his fork and I had to dash to the silverware drawer to GET HIM A KNIFE. Somewhat embarrassing. Also: I add 1/4 t. of almond extract to the cherry filling every time.
🍒
CHERRY CRISP
In our house, we used to call this dessert Cherry Slop. I was using a different recipe for many years, and it always turned out tasty but very cherry-soupy. Back then, life was too hard to optimize a dessert recipe, but after finally experimenting with less-liquid-y versions a few years ago, I landed on this one. SLOP NO MORE 🏆!!!
NOTES: To maximize the crisp to cherry ratio, I always bake in an 8x8 pan instead of the recommended 9x9 (or you could just make more topping). Also, I use 6 instead of 5 cups of frozen cherries, then thawed. And I usually forget to add the extra sugar for sour cherries per recipe notes, and we never miss it!
🍒
AN APPETIZER
I made this dried cherry and pistachio-crusted goat cheese app when I hosted our neighborhood book club for Tom Lake by Ann Patchett (3.5/5 stars for me, but her new book, Whistler, sounds like a triumph!). Much of Tom Lake's setting takes place at a family's Michigan cherry orchard, offering the ideal opportunity for cherry-themed snacks. [IMO, you can put just about anything on goat cheese and it, like Whistler, will also be a triumph]. I remember it being tricky and slightly frustrating to get all the pistachios to stick ... but I survived and it was very good to eat!
🍒
ALSO: YOU CAN SUB DRIED CHERRIES ANYWHERE YOU'D USE DRIED CRANBERRIES
Salad! Chicken salad! Cookies! Muffins! Bread!
SHARING CHERRIES
Finally, the unspoken rule of abundant backyard produce: pick, pack, eat, enjoy ... and share. You must share, and the sharing — without a doubt — is the cherry on top 🍒.
The 2026 cherries have long faded from our tree and at most farmers markets; peaches are now glowing in their place. Still, even belatedly, the cherries rightly deserve their moment in the sun ... and in the freezer, too.
GOT A GREAT CHERRY RECIPE?
LINK IT IN THE COMMENTS!
🍒
EXTRA GOOD
ALSO LINKED THROUGH THE EXTRA GOOD PAGE HERE
SUNDAY, AUGUST 9,2026
1._GOOD FUN: Last Saturday we were walking toward a parking garage in Fort Collins on a broiling hot day; sweat dripping, I could think only about the shady relief we'd feel just 30 steps away. But then I looked up and saw this critter on the side of the garage and was reminded that I needed to write about Jimothy! Seattle's now-world-famous Jimothy was first spotted in July, and in the World Cup post Comments section, my dear Seattle-area friend Laura gave him a cheerful bump. It's an honor to answer the Here's One Good Thing request line ☎️!
By now, most of you have probably heard about the congenitally-challenged Jimothy, a raccoon folk hero/icon who runs free in Seattle's Ballard neighborhood. (Btw, you should visit Ballard if you're ever in Seattle. It's the Scandinavian-heritage home of the fascinating Ballard Locks, the Tractor Tavern for live music, the very photogenic recycled-wood Nordic Troll, and much more.).
Jimothy has an uncommon look and gait for a raccoon — a back high and rounded from a spinal deformity — and he run-hops through Ballard to the delight of ... everyone!
You can read the full (and continuing) story of Jimothy here and here, but the creative response to his near-magical presence is a story unto itself. The Seattle City Council has officially declared it "Jimothy Summer!" and recently held a Jimothy Art Contest (two winners declared / their work will be on display at Seattle City Hall for the rest of the summer.) If you Google "Jimothy images," you will see Jimothy arts & crafts on Etsy, Jimothy animation on Instagram, a Jimothy bobblehead, Jimothy stickers, t-shirts , keychains and Christmas ornaments. Sweet Jimothy hunches adorably in every format you can imagine.
In Jimothy's possibly-pinnacle event, both last Wednesday and Friday night (Friday added due to spiked ticket demand), the Seattle Mariners held Jimothy Night at T-Mobile Park, complete with Jimothy rookie baseball cards. I read that the Jumbotron screen flashed "MAKE SOME NOISE FOR JIMOTHY!!" We can only imagine the seismic response ⚾️ 🦡 💥.
Has it all been too much? C loves following The Needling ("Seattle's Only Real Fake News"), a satirical site that pokes fun at Seattle's big and small absurdities. Staff writers recently addressed the question of overexposure with this piece: "Nation Reminded This is Last Day You Can Talk About Jimothy"; the deadline for Jimothy chatter was Friday, August 7, which puts me in the penalty box.
So far, Jimothy seems to have enjoyed the freedom to live his wild, stealthy, urban raccoon life — humans are showing fabulous restraint! In the Washington Post Instagram post above, Jimothy's original spotter — "Firsthand Jimothy Witness" Kiana Hall — says, "People just need something silly and fun in their lives right now." Thank you, Jimothy, for giving us our JIMOTHY SUMMER ☀️ 🦡 ☀️!!
2._GOOD SPORTS / WORLD CUP RECAP! It's hard for me to let a good thing go, and since we are a little behind the times with both cherries and Jimothy, why not continue with the throwbacks? I had a great time — even as a non-fan — writing about this summer's World Cup Wonders. In the quiet days after all the hoopla ended, E sent me the following two clips as a boost. They totally boosted!
First, we have 13 seconds of on-the-pitch elation. Kenye Yamal, the three-year-old half-brother of Spain's superstar Lamine Yamal — became a World Cup delight as cameras caught his exuberant little-brother fan-joy throughout the tournament. I missed including his story in the Fans section of my post, but he gets a big shout-out here. Below see his reaction to a post-match goal following the Spain-Argentina Final.
And finally, crank up the volume for this heralded Guns N' Roses-backed FIFA 2026 World Cup recap from the BCC. Very stirring / many goosebumps. It's fun! Enjoy! And adíos!!
SEE YOU HERE NEXT TIME FOR
ANOTHER BATCH OF GOOD
😀
Comments