Goodbye, Olde-Timey Wishing Well

There is a big hole on one side of our front yard. It looks like it was used as a fire pit by the eccentric gentlemen who lived here before we did. Last year, a girl rang our bell who said she used to live here. She cried when she saw the hole. She was just devastated that someone had torn down her mother's handmade decorative well. We felt bad for her and pretended like we were sorry too, that there's nothing we would have loved more than a nostalgic country wishing well in our front yard.

So we have to do something with that hole, and we decided to plant our new cherry tree in it. D dug out four square feet of rocks, leaves, slabs of slate, cigarette butts, and burnt charcoal from the hole, and could hardly stand upright the next day. But by yesterday he was ready to plant the tree. It's a Montmorency, a sour pie cherry that is supposed to thrive on the Front Range. I'd like to get a few more fruit trees, maybe another cherry and an apple or two.

R really likes her rake from the Easter Bunny. She wanted to take it to school today, but I talked her out of it.

It's a very small tree, but it looks like it might actually blossom this year. It should be pretty in front of the flowering crabapples.

And finally, today's lunch.