inky-purple prune plums

My family has a small farm in the lush Willamette Valley. Cows, pigs and chickens used to roam the fields and woods. A garden the size of a city block (or at least that’s how I remember it) produced enough to feed everyone and their neighbor. Now, the livestock consists of squirrels, deer and raccoons. The garden is a manageable size, which still yields enough to share with a local Mission. And, fruit trees dot the yard, sans the Italian prune-plum that met it’s demise years ago. Continue reading