Wild plums

The plum tree across the street beckons. It is old and tangled, uncared for and twisted into itself. The tiny wild plums are hard to reach. The ones on the ground have been pecked by birds and stung by bees. A scratched knee is worth the climb….these forgotten plums are ripe, sweet, and perfect. The sweetness of the juice and tartness of the skin holds me still for a moment. Passion, concentrated in a tiny, forgotten, wild plum. Go explore.

I came across a great photography site: Freesolo — “Conservation through Adventure” — a passion-harnessing collective!

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1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. BadAssKona
    Aug 26, 2010 @ 22:30:00

    And the juice runs down her chin….

    Reply

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