I was disappointed with our plums this year. I have blamed the appalling weather. However, this afternoon, en route to the paddock to pull out thistles, I wandered under one of our more far flung fruit trees. It was LADEN with plums and around a dozen blackbirds jumping from branch to branch, turning the plumbs into missiles. The cheeky birds had been gorging themselves - the hundreds of bone dry pips on the ground were evidence. This is a tree that has done nothing for 3 years and as if to spite me quietly produced enough plums to sink a boat. Sadly most of them are completely out of reach except for the birds, and they aren't planning to help me harvest them.
So, more plum puree for the freezer methinks.
The mush left over from the last plum culinary experiment was today donated to the Post Office Pig. I mixed it with some left over quince pulp from last year that I had preserved. Mr Post Office grinned when I gave it to him "That will go into his bucket for afternoon tea". As we drove away from the Post Office, I could see a large mound of flesh snoozing in the long grass of the meadow, the only evidence that it was a pig was the large hairy ear flicking away the bees. Oh to be a snoozing pig with quince for tea.