Both my grandmothers were known for their pie, one apple, the other cherry. Both my grandmothers died in 2011.
When we bought our house in 2016, we were excited to discover that the previous owners had planted a cherry tree in the back corner of the property. The tree must have been quite young because it only produced a handful of cherries the first few years we were here.
In 2018, when my husband Colin died suddenly in a cycling accident, some longtime family friends bought my son and I a cherry tree to plant in his honor. Colin loved cherry pie, especially Grandma’s.
Over the past few years, both of our cherry trees have produced an abundance of fruit. The older tree seems to ripen first and the newer tree is ready a week or two later.
This morning I picked cherries for the second time this season. There will be much more to come in the coming weeks.
I never realized how tedious making a cherry pie can be. I spend about 30 minutes picking enough cherries for one pie because who wants a fruit pie that skimps on fruit? Then the cherries need to be washed and pitted. I do the pitting by hand, standing over the kitchen sink, throwing the pits into one bowl and the cherries with their juice into a large glass measuring cup. Six cups of cherries and juices is what I use to make a pie, and they need to be cooked with a little sugar and a few other ingredients before they are ready to be baked in a pie crust.
While doing all this, I think about my grandmother. How she spent all those years making cakes to please all her children and grandchildren. It was truly her labor of love.
I can’t help but think of my second grandmother in the fall when I peel and slice and stack apples, sprinkle them with cinnamon and sugar, and bake them in a pie. Even though my son says my apple pie is his favorite, I believe it’s only because he’s never had a slice of grandma’s.
My mom was famous for her cookies. When she passed away this past December after a short battle with leukemia, my dad gave me her aprons. These days, when I’m mixing up a batch of oatmeal cookies and chocolate chips on one of her aprons, I sometimes feel like she’s right there with me. I can hear her voice and her laugh as if she were still here.
My husband Colin still lives in every corner of our house and in our yard. From the vegetable garden he dug to the native plants he planted in the front. When I water the plants or weed the garden in the evening, I can’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment that I’ve kept any of it going for so long. It just annoys me that he never got a piece of the cherry pie from the cherry in our yard. It occupies most of my thoughts whenever I’m picking those cherries.
Our loved ones leave behind pieces of them, whether memories or the material like a garden, an apron or a recipe. And sometimes when you need to feel close to them again, it’s as simple as making a cherry or apple pie, some cookies, or a walk in the garden.
— Rachel Brougham is a former assistant editor of the Petoskey News-Review. You can email her at [email protected].