Simple Things. . . with a Cherry on Top.

A few weekends ago, on one of the hot, sunny days that have been all too rare of late, George, Jalleen and Devon drove over from Issaquah for the express purposes of: (a) picking cherries, and (b) having a bonfire with marshmallows.  I love this family.  They pour hours into their work at Microsoft, send their child to private school, shop at Whole Foods and Crate and Barrell, and yet drive vintage Honda Accords, are generous with their time and money, and love the simple pleasures of scavenger hunts, picking cherries, and bonfires with roasted marshmallows and colored smoke bombs.  On visits to Aunt Traci's, Devon wakes up at 6:00, dressed in his designer wellingtons, pressed plaid shorts, and polo shirt, asking, "Don't we need to go outside now and do chores?  I'll scoop the horse poop." 

For the Ringers, or at least for Devon, mucking manure is rivaled by few things.  Picking cherries, though, is one of them. 

Simple pleasures...

We road-tripped in the vintage 1990s Honda Accord to the Stutzman Ranch in Wenatchee where we hopped on a tractor-pulled flat bed and headed out to fill our buckets with cherries.

We picked cherries...

And picked...

And ate...

And picked...

Bing cherries...

Rainier cherries...

Buckets of cherries...

 Thank You Stutzmans!

 And Stutzmans' adorable little doggie.  (These are his real ears.  There was no wind!)

And no cherry-picking road trip would be complete without a little  geocaching on the way home...

Of all the trinkets from which to choose...pencils, erasers, trucks, and speedboats, what would an almost-seven year old boy choose?

A glitter covered Santa Clause pin, what else?

Once back in Cle Elum, we BBQed, and bonfired, roasted marshmallows, and set off Devon's leftover smokebombs from the Fourth of July...

And we explored...

And acted silly...

And enjoyed all of the things that money can't buy.