The Sensuous Art of Plum Picking

Plums from our backyard tree are incredibly sweet and juicy. I take them to church and put them in the kitchen, where we munch. If you stand outside the room you’d think they’re having an orgy in there. “Oooooh…ummmm…OMG this is sweet…ahhhhhh…just one more… ”

I wait for the Magic Moment.

It sounds like they’re making love, but they’re just in the kitchen eating plums I hand picked. Actually, “pick” is too crude a word. I don’t just pick them, I caress them. I fondle them. I squeeze each one very gently and if there is a softness, I tug it ever so slightly, tenderly, away from the branch. If it doesn’t come off with this gentle grope, I leave it on the tree. It is not ripe.

My husband is annoyed by all this. Frank is a no-nonsense, just-get-it-done kind of guy. He goes out with his bag and just indiscriminately grabs every plum he sees hanging. He pulls them forcibly, with lightning speed. “You’re coming with me!” I can almost hear him say. He’s done in a jiffy, and comes in the house with a big bag of hard, slightly green plums.

It’s easy to tell whether people are eating plums that Frank picked or that I picked. When they’re eating Frank’s, it doesn’t sound like there’s an orgy going on.  


2 thoughts on “The Sensuous Art of Plum Picking

  1. I’m all for the orgy type of eating fruit. We’re so blessed in the Bay Area in the summer because of all the wonderful fruits that are available just after they’re picked. Most of the orchards in our county are either completely or are minimal, however, there are still some in the San Martin and Gilroy area. I stand over my kitchen sink, with peach, nectarine, plum or pluot juice running down my forearms and my chin. I have my own private orgy while doing so. What ecstasy!


  2. Ooooo, ahhhhhhh, ooohhhhhhh yum! Slurp slurp! Yummmmmmmy!
    I love your plums. They are sweet and juicy and just perfectly lovely.
    Thank you for your loving touch in the picking of the plums. You are a credit to your garden. Your loving care is most appreciated. Don’t tell him . . . But tell Frank to keep his heavy ham hands off those lovely plums! ;o)


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