We stepped on the bus at 7:35 in the morning, lattes in hand and cameras in tow. Emma and I had been talking about this cherry trip for weeks, what we hoped we'd see, what we wanted to taste, and how many pounds we wished we'd bring home. We'd had an agenda before we arrived, and it was simple: go to an orchard, have lunch, do a little wine tasting, and visit a fruit packing plant. I figured I might even have time to catch a little nap or do some writing and brainstorming on the ride over. Wrong.