Just... holy plums. I'm not even kidding. There's something about this year. Maybe I just missed it last year, maybe I'm not remembering clearly after the blur that was my experience as a Junior—yes, I survived, somehow—but I do not remember plums being this abundant last year.
For context: a volunteer and I went up to Novato. She is one of my close friends, so we decided to make a day of it. We woke up (me a lot earlier than her) and got coffee, then drove all the way to Novato to start the day with... drumroll please.... plums. Now, these were the small plums that are mildly irritating to pick due to the sheer volume that could fit onto one tree. But they're not the ones we're interested in. What WE are interested in are the two women from Sonoma who met us at this house with "some plums" they wanted us to transport to the foodbank.
Yeah. Uh. "Some plums" ended up being TWO HUNDRED AND SIXTY POUNDS.
The picture you see to the right? Just over half the bags that we filled from their stash. You think I'm joking? My car STILL smells like plums, and there's plum juice all over the trunk—thank god I had the foresight to put a wax paper covering down because plums are NOT kind to paper bags. I've started keeping a stash of those cardboard boxes you get at Costco and the kinds that produce come in just so when the juice of the plums inevitably get the better of our paper bags, the plums don't go spilling everywhere when we donate them. Who wants to guess how many times the bags broke for us to learn THAT lesson?
Anyway, after we loaded the car with those, we headed to another house in Novato for peaches, plums (surprise surprise), and pears. Now this house was interesting not just because one of the kids is a rising Sophomore at my high school, but also for the three dogs, two cats, four chickens, a dozen?? foot-long koi fish, and multiple parakeets. Their plum tree was MASSIVE, and produced equally large plums. They were the size of small apples, I swear, and were SO SOFT. We'd accidentally drop some while picking them—roofs were being climbed, but with permission, I swear—and they'd just... splat on the ground. It was really sad, but hey, the chickens no doubt enjoyed them.
We then drove up to a house in Petaluma to pick up some apples, and I swear, their backyard was so stunning I would have no problem getting married in it; a veranda, vineyard, tree house, guesthouse, porch swings, tire swings, tucked away at the end of a long back road that wound through I kid-you-not five entire horse ranches and a western show site. It may be my ultimate retirement home, I'm going to be honest. My friend kept teasing me about becoming a crazy horse lady instead of a cat one when I couldn't stop talking about it on the way back.
We ended the day with a grand total of four hundred ninety-three pounds of fruit and poke bowls in San Rafael for a late lunch, so I, at least, have nothing to complain about. I even landed myself a jar of jam—which my friend took home—and a family recipe for plum ice cream that I will not be trying (because I don't like fruit. Yes, I hear the irony) but my Mom absolutely adores.
All the love,
Carrie
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