Cherry tree horror

Friday, June 29, 2007

A number of years ago, J and I rented our first home. We were quite excited. We'd been married just shy of 2 years and had lived in a variety of apartments and 4-plexes so it was a real thrill to move into our "first home." The fact that the entire house was less than 800 sq ft didn't bother us at all. It was billed as a 2 bedroom/1 bath, but in actuality was a 1.5 bedroom with a porch that'd been converted into a bathroom. Yes, this was an old house.

The half bedroom had no closet and was just large enough to hold our son's crib and a changing table. That's it. And with those in there, you had to squeeze by to get into the room and over to the crib. It was a bit claustrophobic for a hefty gal like myself. But I digress...

Regardless of the tiny size, the bathroom that had shower tiles falling onto the shower floor, and the fact that the kitchen had a prety decent slope to it (you could roll a melon from one side to the other w/out trying) - we loved the house. And I especially loved the huge cherry tree in the front yard.

We moved in just as spring was arriving and joy of joys, the cherry tree was in full bloom. My mouth watered in anticipation of the sweet, dark cherries that were surely forming amongst all those gorgeous flowers and I was heady with the prospect of FRESH cherry pie. Every day found me trekking to the front yard to stare in wonder as the flowers fell and the cherries began to form.

For 3 months I watched these cherries grow until finally, I began to think it was time to pick them. Not having experience with cherries I called my green-thumb mom over to have a look-see. She picked a few off and then told me that the following Saturday (6 days later), I should pick them. Oh, how my heart lept in joy! So what if it would be hours of back-breaking work! So what if I'm terrified of heights! So what that it'll take me all day long! I'll have fresh, hand picked (by yours truly!) cherries with which to work some culinary magic.

That week stretched into infinity. I picked a cherry here and I picked a cherry there. Almost ready. So sweet and juicy! Finally it was Friday and I was aquiver with excitment and anticipation. That day seemed like it would never end. J came home around 6 and I flew out the front door to share my excitement. A cherry lover himself (it's his fave fruit!), he was about as excited as I was. And that's saying alot - J isn't one for exuberant excitement.

As we stood on the front stoop admiring our fruit laden tree, I heard a faint noise in the distance. Sounded a bit like rain mixed with muffled shrieks and loud cries. The sound grew nearer and the sky began to grow dark. A massive flock of crows was flying in from who-knows-where - thousands upon thousands of them. We both looked at the sky in awe. What a sight!

But then, what was this? Like a jet fighter, the entire flock descended with precision and speed, straight to our front yard - a feather powered missile that scared the pants off me. I jumped to the door and started to scream - THE BIRDS! THE BIRDS! Visions of the Alfred Hitchcock thriller zipped through my imagination and left me about ready to pee my pants. I thought of our young son, asleep in his crib and wondered who would find him after our bloodied and lifeless bodies were found draped across the front porch. I covered my eyes to save them from being plucked out and waited for the inevitable... the roar was deafening and all around was the frightful cacophony of bird shrieks and wings flapping. Like a symphony composed by a madman. We waited...and waited... and then looked up to see...

Our cherry tree. Covered in every manner of crow. 80 bazillion crows to be precise. Crows from every corner of the globe. It was like the Annual Crow Convention. You could barely make out the tree from the black shadows that covered every square inch. It was awesome and bizarre. We couldn't look away.

For 3 minutes we watched and then suddenly, as one entity, the entire flock flew up and away. Cawing and shrieking as they made their way off to destinations unknown. We watched as they disappeared into the distance and then our eyes landed upon the cherry tree. Well, what used to be the cherry tree. Those cotton-picking crows had picked off and eaten every single last cherry. The tree was stripped bare. I kid you not - there was not ONE cherry left on the tree or the ground. In the space of less than 5 minutes, that finger of satan bird cloud had ruined every cherry pie, every cherry turnover, every cherry cheesecake dream that had been brewing in my head all spring.

I raised my fist to the sky and cursed crows far and wide. I shrieked in anger and stamped my feet in rage. I pounded my fists on the house walls and then collapsed to the stoop in an exhausted slump of overwhelming anger and defeat. As I sat there fuming I heard a sound...I looked up to see J, tears streaming down his face as he laughed as he'd never laughed before. He guffawed. He chuckled. He belly laughed and he slapped his knees as he bent over to breath. He was LAUGHING at me and the cherry tree catastrophe! HOW DARE HE!

J got no dinner that night. I locked myself in the bedroom and plotted revenge against all flying creatures whilst J sat out and called all our friends. Shrieking with laughter as he recounted the horrible events that had taken place that evening.

And so, there it is. The horrifying and tragic tale of the cherry tree. And those *@#$I(O#$ crows!!!

Labels: garden