When I lived in California 30 some years ago, there was an old widower, Mr. Dawson who lived across the street. He had a plum tree that seemed to produce a bumper crop every year as we would receive several large brown grocery bags of plums throughout the summer, every summer. These plums had a deep red flesh and were as sweet as candy. Sadly, I never asked him what variety they were as I have rarely come across them since my move to the northwest. Until that is, this past summer. Husband and I took a road trip down to visit Son Family RockRead More →