Growing up, it was a necessary skill. How were you going to hang out in a cherry orchard without knowing how to separate the meat from the stone with your tongue and teeth and colorfully but nonchalantly sending it out over the fields?
Novices could be spotted by the deep blueish tinge under their lower lip where juice and pulp would ooze. But they weren't really worth our time, as they were either youngsters or city kids, up from Detroit or Ann Arbour for summer vacation.
Today I taught the kids the first steps of becoming spitters - how to scrape the solid cherry off the pit (Inside your mouth, please!) and let it drop into a container.
We'll tackle distance spitting outside in the spring.
It was fun, remembering the weight of the sun on my shoulders and the smell of the orchards and the lacy shadows the trees cast, even when the branches were heavy and bowed with fruit.
I'll make Michigan kids of them yet.
12 comments:
Oh my God, you've gone native. There is no "u" in Ann Arbor. That made me laugh out loud.
You write such beautiful imagery... exquisite post.
Middle Aged Woman - Oh my God, I have, haven't I???
That has sealed it. My kids want to come and live with you. Spitting lessons!
Hey, I resent that remark. Us Ann Arbor-ites know full well not to drool cherry juice down our chins.
Hehehe. Love the way you wrote this!
Gorgeous, on atleast 12 levels. Gorgeous.
(Your header too.)
and then HAAA! Middle Aged Woman got you! I didn't get that one, native I am!
I love it!
Rockin' the new banner, too.
Now I have to meet you some day for sure!
I am laughing at MAW though . . . "ou" indeed! They have Brit-ified your American Standard! Ha ha!
Ah, spitting skills. You are such a great mom! :)
Okay, but it's December? Not exactly cherry season?
You grew up in a cheery oprchard? That is AWESOME. But why would you spit out the cherry flesh instead of enjoying it? That is MADNESS!!!
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