I am looking at my Montmorency cherry tree every day. I planted it to mark the first anniversary of my sister’s death. We had such a tree when we were children, and we would spend days picking and pitting. I did the pie baking. They’re tart and indescribably delicious. I have not tasted a fresh one in decades. I’ve never seen one for sale, although I’ve had dried ones and jam made from them. This year I hope to have a handful of fresh cherries, and I’ll likely cry as I taste them. Perhaps in another year I can bake a pie. I look forward to it. Tracey would have loved it. Those pies were a highlight of our childhood.