As it happened, the buckets sat in the garage for a few more days than I had originally intended. Because, you know...life.
These days coincided perfectly with an Indian Summer heat wave, and those precious purple plums turned to pulp. Not to mention the colonies of fruit flies feasting on my negligence. Ugh.
I dumped them all in the rubbish bin (I pretty sure the friendly neighborhood trash collectors were not feeling so friendly when they took a whiff of all that rotten fruit.)
My pioneer ancestors looked down from on high, shaking their heads and clucking their tongues with reproach.
(these are local forest plums, but you get the idea)