Lessons learned.

When I was a boy growing up in Coldwater, Michigan, an old gentleman named Mr. McGinnis lived on Tibbits St. just around the corner from my parent’s house.
Mr. McGinnis had two cherry trees in his side yard. They were the kind that are deep red and as big around as my thumb. None of us kids ever ventured into his yard or bothered the trees because that just wasn't done.
One year Mr. McGinnis called my brothers over from where we were playing and said that he couldn't pick the cherries that year, but if we were careful and used his ladders we could have all the cherries.
We ran home and told our mother the news. She said if we got enough cherries she would bake us a pie.
My brothers and I along with a couple other boys from the neighborhood, armed with pans and buckets, went and picked all of the cherries that afternoon. Being boys and perpetually hungry, it was one in the bucket and one in the tummy. We ended up with a dishpan full of cherries, about 3 gallons or so, to take home.
Flushed with our success we marched home and presented the bounty to Mom. She spent the rest of the day pitting cherries and made us a great cherry pie.
The only catch was she only had enough cherries for one pie. Out of the 3 gallons of cherries most of them were full of worms.
One in the pan. One in the tummy.
Mr. McGinnis hadn't been able to spray the trees that year.