Sweet cherry grows into a lovely tree, all pink blossoms, dizzy scent, fat fruit. So last summer, we dug one in.
But one, we learned, is insufficient. Solo, the tree will branch, bud, flower. Lacking a partner, though, it won’t set fruit.
We pointed to the far corner of the garden, where a weeping cherry stooped; similar look, different cultivar. Would that do? “Nope,” the plant guy frowned. “Strictly ornamental.”
Fall fell, winter settled; we forgot about matchmaking. But strange things happen out there, among the birds and bees.
Come spring, the ornamental cherry wept pink blossoms. Her leaves looked flush, healthy, cheerful. We walked to the far corner, ran our garden gloves through her soft branches, and found them dangling tiny stems, stems dangling tiny cherries.
She, too, had been waiting for a partner, for love, and for branches heavy with fruit.
Make cherry crisp:
Order from Crumble:
