The First Pie
The first pie of the year came out of the oven on Saturday night. The first quart and a half of cherries. The first two hundred and three cherries. Those cherries were on a tree just half a day ago. *
The gathering was an intimate one. It was a year ago that John saw last year’s first pie on the internet and guessed that he was just 10 minutes away from Joan’s barn. But he had to wait until this year to have a slice. It was a hard won slice. He had spent the last year making friends with Joan to guarantee his place at the table (and, actually he had two slices). Elizabeth, John’s better half, said she hadn’t expected the texture of the cherries to be so profoundly delicate. The pie took that as a great compliment from a discerning palate. The Wolf and Joan happily ate their slices too. And we all toasted friendship with hard cider and then prosecco.
Joan, Wolf and I ate the last three slices the next morning of breakfast before heading back to the city with the remaining 25lbs of sour cherries.
*I’ll tell you about picking the cherries later.