It's not exactly the pits!

Our little cherry tree was ready to be picked, but I had a problem. I didn't want to go out, by myself, and be subjected to swarms of massive mosquitoes and ravenous deer flies. I wanted others to enjoy that wonderful experience with me, so I enlisted help.

I forced my daughters to help me. But when one of them started bleeding from a

wound in her leg, I let her run up to the house, tend to the wound, then made her come back and be the photographer for the evening's festivities. (Do you like my ballet method of reaching into the middle of the tree? I thought it necessary that I combine Pilates moves with the fine art of cherry picking.)

Our photographer seemed to be really enjoying herself trying to take as many pictures of her sister's backside as she could. (Believe me, she took hundreds...) She giggled the whole time.

I got wise and decided to use the hubby's pickup truck for a ladder. It worked quite well, despite all of the "junk" in the bed that I was tripping over. One of my wiser moves wasn't wearing long sleeves. It was super hot outside, and the bugs didn't even decide to show up.

"Momma? What are you doing?"

"Momma! You're scaring me!"

"Ok. For a massage, I'll do just about anything..."

"even smile at my annoying little sister."

My eldest and I admired some of our hard work.

Then she decided that it was time to make the photographer suffer a little bit...
as only a bigger sibling knows how.