Bright red cherries, covered in shiny layer of ice, still on the tree and ready to be picked! OK, they are not really cherries (I don't know what the hell they are but when I bit through one of them risking deadly poisoning, it tasted half-edible).
Look carefully: heavy wind must have been blowing while it rained; some of the fruit are pointing upwards, instead of hanging down.
It's Ann Arbor, Michigan. It's wool hat and gloves kind of weather here. People don't speak so much with each other on the streets or on the university bus that I take in the morning to the central campus. It's chilly and I notice that my cheerful hello to the bus driver is turning heads, just like yesterday. The driver is a pretty black woman with short hair and she gives me a big smile (she saw me scurry from the other side of the street with a dangling camera in one hand and an open backpack in the other). I get on.
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