摘樱桃

The forest was alive with the sweet scent of freshly picked cherries, a vibrant contrast to the dense and winding trails. As I read about these vibrant fruit trees, their golden leaves swaying gently in the breeze, my eyes filled with anticipation for this year's cherry harvest.

In the early morning light, I found myself standing at the edge of a small village forest. The villagers were gathered around the hearth, laughing as the fire crackled away. I glanced up and saw a single, towering cherry tree, its bark smooth yet slightly rough. The fruit inside was perfectly ripe—red, juicy like a ripe lemon. I leaned forward, my eyes widening in wonder. That seemed to bring me closer to this season's bounty.

As the day progressed, I followed the scent of freshly picked cherries and heard a distant rustling. A voice called out: "Bring me some!" The village elder nodded, her face glowing with approval. We walked through the forest, their eyes locked on the cherry tree before me. It was a perfect spot for gathering.

On a sunny day in early April, we packed ourselves up into our tiny car. The forest outside was peaceful but busy as locals were gathered around the fire. We pulled into the village, and an old wooden cart loaded with baskets lined up at the front of the road. The baskets were bright green, each holding three cherries inside.

In my basket, I placed a single cherry. The fruit fell onto the ground in clusters, like a symphony of vibrant reds. I watched as another berry fell beside it—still perfectly ripe and juicy. A third cherry joined them, making me realize just how good these fruits were. Even though each was small, together they made a large, colorful bouquet.

As we drove through the forest, I noticed some cherries on a tree that had already fallen onto our cart. These had been pruned before harvest—peels removed, branches trimmed. They were still perfectly ripe, their bright red color reflecting off the wind. I leaned back in my basket and watched as the sunlight filtered down, casting a golden glow over the cherries.

The forest was alive with vibrant fruit. The scent of the fresh air filled me, and my eyes scanned every cluster of cherry fruits. Each one was bright, juicy, and ready to be eaten. I reached out to one, pulling it gently into my mouth. A small taste of what lay ahead seemed to stir a burning desire for more.

The forest grew brighter as we walked further, the scent of fresh air lingering in our breath. I stopped to admire a cherry tree with clusters of red and yellow fruits. Their size varied—some were small, others larger. They were like shapes made from gold, each one different but always inviting.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows on the forest floor, we gathered closer to collect some of these cherries. The air inside was thick with scent and warmth. I looked up at the tree, its golden leaves swaying gently as if in the rhythm of life.

A basket of cherry fruits caught my eye. The ripe fruit lay on the ground, their clusters still just forming—small ones on top, larger ones beneath them. They seemed to be waiting for us. I pulled out a single cherry and placed it into my basket. As I did so, a second one fell beside it, its red hue catching my eye. A third fell below, making the basket look almost full.

I ate the cherry, my mouth watering at the taste. It was sweet—just as sweet as any. The forest felt alive with the promise of more, and I could not wait to take it home.