A few years ago, my mom planted ground cherries in her garden in honor of her dad, who adored his ground cherry patch when she was growing up. She didn't remember what he used to bake with them and they don't taste great raw, so they have been more like a weed than a crop for the past few years. Even though we kept pulling them up, they kept coming back year after year. I like to think this was my grandpa intervening from the afterlife, trying to force us to enjoy the darn cherries. 

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