Smeared faces and tummy aches

This actually ties in nicely with the whole 'fruit theme' going on over in Allison's Unsealed Room.

It’s Friday afternoon and we, meaning the entire family, are laying about the house concentrating on little more than digestion. About an hour ago we returned from kibbutz Rosh Tzurim (located less than 10 minutes from our house), where the annual Cherry Festival is in full swing.

Let me just say for the record that we all love cherries. However, despite this deep affection for them, cherries have always been an expensive indulgence… something that we serve a few times a year and horde our small portion until nothing remains but a bowl of pits and an unsatisfied longing. Each time we get cherries I silently wish that I could eat until I was truly satisfied.

All I can say is, “Be careful what you wish for.”

This Cherry Festival is an ‘all you can eat’ affair, with white and deep red cherries dripping from trees as far as the eye can see. We also purchased a few containers to take cherries home with us, but the real attraction was being able to eat cherries to (and beyond), the point of discomfort. It was a perfect late spring day, and a pleasant breeze rustled the leaves as we walked, picked and ate…and ate… and ate. There must have been several thousand people wandering amongst the trees, unabashedly stuffing themselves.

Once we had finished picking and eating, we wandered over to a big grassy area on the edge of the kibbutz where music was playing, arts & crafts were being shown and sold, and kids could enjoy horseback riding, cotton candy, and various carnival-like pastimes. I bought a bottle of local wine (made by a French immigrant who makes a very respectable Cabernet in a local cave), and Zahava sat in the shade with Yonah while the kids ran around and played.

With our distended bellies and fruit smeared faces, we must resemble those pygmies from old issues of National Geographic. Even Yonah got to enjoy the event with the kids taking turns peeling cherries for him and feeding him little bits of the sweet fruit flesh.

I really need to go grill the chicken for dinner tonight but the thought of actually moving is almost painful. I could say that I’ve learned my lesson – that I will never do this to myself again - but it would be the worst kind of lie. With New Year’s resolutions and diets we lie to ourselves with the purest of intentions, never expecting to backslide and relent. But right this minute… I know perfectly well that come next spring I will be sitting right here with my face and hands smeared with cherries, and waiting out a familiar tummy ache.