I discovered this through a recent experience.

It was cherry time in the country, and the sight of the scarlet fruit suddenly reminded me of a cherry season in Polotzk, I could not say how many years ago.

On that earlier occasion my Cousin Shimke, who, like everybody else, was a storekeeper, had set a boy to watch her store, and me to watch the boy, while she went home to make cherry preserves.

She gave us a basket of cherries for our trouble, and the boy offered to eat them with the stones if I would give him my share.
But I was equal to that feat myself, so we sat down to a cherry-stone contest.

Who ate the most stones I could not remember as I stood under the laden trees not long ago, but the transcendent flavor of the historical cherries came back to me, and I needs must enjoy it once more.
I climbed into the lowest boughs and hung there, eating cherries with the stones, my whole mind concentrated on the sense of taste.