On Saturday, I went to the farmers' market and came back with (among other things) 3 baskets of plums. Two of the baskets were red plums; one blue. Somehow, all the farmers seemed to have a little extra story about their plums - when we admired the blue ones with leaves attached, the grower gave us two extras, also with leaves. When I was buying the first basket of red ones, the seller (a bee keeper who wears a hive hat to the market) reached under the table and brought out an extra, perfectly ripe one for me to eat right away.

I was looking for fruit because I was planning on serving make-your-own yogurt parfaits, with fruit & yogurt & granola for brunch on Sunday. I made the red pums into a quick jam/sauce, and scattered the blue ones around the table as garnish.

There were four-year-old twin girls at the brunch, and one of them came to ask me if the plums were decoration - I said, yes, but you can eat one if you like - later when I cleared the table I found the pit, sucked clean, under a plate.