There’s a cherry tree in the back yard, but it’s too tall. The birds get the cherries, and I get to sweep up the stones. Still, it’s magic when in bloom.
One time that I did eat lots of cherries was in Greece, in 1986, and it’s the subject of my one page story, Chernobyl Cherries, published this month by Transnational Literature. I found out years later that cherries were off most people’s shopping lists in Greece that year, which explains how affordable they were.
If this little flashback inspires you to read more, either as reinvestigation if you were alive in 1986, or social history if you were not, then try dipping into Gennady Grushevoy’s ‘Monologue on Cartesian philosophy and on eating a radioactive sandwich with someone so as not to be ashamed’ from the current issue of Five Dials.