There’s an island in the harbour where I live. Well there are many islands, but this one was particularly special. Just above the high tide mark on this island used to be dozens of plum trees – Christmas plums we knew them as. Every summer we’d head out to the island in the boat and fill bags and bags with an abundance of small, sweet yellow and blush plums, probably eating as many as we bagged. Once the plums reached home they were turned into jars and jars of plum sauce which was used in our house as a foragers’substitute for bought tomato sauce/ketchup – something I am ashamed to confess I complained about at the time!
There’s an island in the harbour where I live. Well there are many islands, but this one was particularly special. Just above the high tide mark on this island used to be dozens of plum trees – Christmas plums we knew them as. Every summer we’d head out to the island in the boat and fill bags and bags with an abundance of small, sweet yellow and blush plums, probably eating as many as we bagged. Once the plums reached home they were turned into jars and jars of plum sauce which was used in our house as a foragers’substitute for bought tomato sauce/ketchup – something I am ashamed to confess I complained about at the time!
