Plums. Tiny, tiny, plums.

So a rarity happened to me recently.  I was away on a trip to Aspen in the "This Is What America Looks Like" state of Colorado and woke up without a predetermined schedule.  Option One:  Find my coworkers and socialize.  Option Two: Wander out by myself to see what the day would hold.  Love my people, but opted for number two.  After a big, strong Iced Americano at Ink! Coffee, I walked down the street to find a combo farmer's market/craft fair deal.  And looky who else was there. These tiny plums of all colors, each about the size of a golf ball.

I wanted the green ones to be tart, but they were red and sweet.  Not a problem.  Perfectly ripe.

So my farmer's market friend in Chicago could share, I packed them up and brought them home. When he saw them the next morning at 7am, two were promptly eaten.