Feeling Plum?
“Go on! Ask me How I am feeling.”
Eye roll.
“Just ask.”
“Fine! How are you feeling?”
“Plum!”
Then I laughed, and the children exchanged concerned glances at each other. Completely lost on them, of course. So, I set about explaining Plum minutiae to a mildly uninterested audience.
I have been thinking of P G Wodehouse during plummy times. (P G Wodehouse was called Plum by his close friends and family)
I have been thinking of little passages from Miss Read’s books as she wrote about making jams and chutneys for bazaars from the excessive plums and marrows during summertime.
How lucky country children are in these natural delights that lie ready to their hand! Every season and every plant offers changing joys. As they meander along the lane that leads to our school all kinds of natural toys present themselves for their diversion.
– Miss Read
I told the children about eating so many berries as children in the countryside in the Nilgiris, it made us slightly sick. But, I also told them about how it was the most fulfilling thing in the world, and they rolled their eyes again.
An Excess of Plums
You see? We are having an excess of plums.
Some days I would gaze up at the branches – grateful for the bounty. Other days, I would step into a mushy one that plopped into my path and spattered and mutter to myself. Plum season is upon us, and nobody is spared. Neighbors, gardeners, cleaners, household helpers, friends, family. Everybody is gifted with plums.
I stood one evening determined to make the best of the plum bounty, and set about making batches of plum pickle, plum jam, plum chutney, and plum juice. I also might’ve eaten a few plums. It was beautiful. The evening light was streaming in through the kitchen bay windows bathing all the world in a luminous glow. The plums were freely squirting their juices into the stovetops, the floors, the kitchen counters, my clothes, and the children stood around helplessly in the melee.
“Amma – you’re going cuckoo! Can’t you just leave the plums?!”
I gasped for dramatic measure and said that prudent folks saved the excess.
“Another 10 have fallen from the tree since you came in ½ an hour ago. Let it go!” said the daughter. Seeing that lunatic obstinate look on my face, she decided that the best thing to do was to leave me alone and took mocking videos of me instead.
I sorely regretted this plummy splash of enthusiasm a few hours later. I had sticky juice everywhere, a jar of jam, a jar of pickle and two bottles of sour juice. But I also had the back-breaking task of cleaning up the kitchen. The mops ran red, the washcloths turned pink, the tissues soaked and cleaned like they had never done before, and yet the kitchen was nowhere close to done.
I tell you.
Black & Blue & Plum
The next day, I plucked and picked more plums and gave them to my friends. “Err…it’s okay! I have some!” they said.
“Oh! Sure – that’s nice. Don’t worry – I’ll walk over and give them to you.” I said smartly, putting the phone down before they could say no, and walked over.
“Would you like some blackberries?” said one of them, and I beamed at her.
“Oooh! That’d be a nice change of pace from plums!” I said, and set about picking the blackberries and popping them in the mouth. The friend peeked into the bag and said, “Plums might make a change from blackberries!”
We looked at each other – lips stained with blackberry and plum juice and started laughing so hard, it was hard to stop.
I’d call that a fruitful week-end, wouldn’t you?
Nourish-n-Cherish 