It Happens Every Year

We have a pear tree. Just one. It's older than both of us put together, and when our arborist examined it, he was amazed it was still alive. The funny part is that it bears the most beautiful and delicious large pears in huge quantities. It's my favorite fruit tree on our property.

Each week C mows the lawn without fail. Before mowing, the fallen apples and pears must be picked up. The apples are often rather wormy, and inevitably several are lost before they are ripe, but the pears are a different story. They drop just before they are ready, so in a day or two, they reach the peak of perfection. It's a race to see if I can beat C to the punch and stow the pears in the garage long enough for them to ripen, but before the fruitflies take flight. Once the fruitflies appear, C wants to throw the pears away.

Here is the funny part. If I can manage to beat the odds, ripen those pears and dry them, C eats them like candy. You can't buy dried pears like this in the store, no sulphur, no sugar, just perfectly sweet dried pears dipped in lemon juice.

This year something different happened. After the first batch of dried pears (picked up with my robot arm because I can't bend over), C was suddenly motivated to save the pears in the garage for me! I guess along with all of that daddy growing up, some things are bound to change. Oh, and my yield of dried pears this year? At least thrice what it was in years past, and we aren't even done yet.

Oh, one more thing you should know, this was a great movie:


Thanks for playing! :)