Single Plum

Our plum tree this year has a single gift, a frosty and blushing thing. Two years back, we also had exactly one plum which met a most sad end. C and I will have one bite each when the time comes. I enjoy the sweetness of anticipation as much.

All over Berkeley in high summer you sidestep sidewalks pelted with uneaten plums. On the way home from BART, sometimes I meet a cardboard box full of small plums signed for giveaway. I bring some home and let them ripe, a few for the chicken, a few for myself and C, a few for just oozing past ripeness.

No go on the chicks

Sadly C's Chick Hatching Dome was full of rotten eggs. He cracked them open expecting bits of feather and bone but found nothing but rotten egg. I was a bit relieved. I read in my chicken guide that eggs hatch too early or too late may result in defective chicks. The authors strongly recommended culling.

The moral dilemma has been averted but the TLC C gave in turning these eggs were for naught. I told C I would write a strong letter to McMurray Hatchery complaining why they would sell such a junky hatchery making kids cry.

Fraises de Bois

In front of C's wood shop, I find a mystery clump of strawberries. I was waiting for any of them to turn red but they dried up instead. These ripe creamy white and have a pineapple perfume and an intense tartness.