PersimmonsAugust 4, 2009
It’s still early in the year for them, but persimmons always make me smile.
There’s an enormous, ancient persimmon tree overhanging the yard of the house I grew up in. One year, our deaf cat got stuck up there during a torrential rainstorm and yowled horribly for three days and nights until the weather dried up enough that Mino, my step-family’s handyman with a talent for enchanting all animals, could scale the tree and return with a furious cat and a score of fresh claw-marks up and down his arm.
Persimmons are for foggy mornings in early fall driving up winding roads, and for eating messily with a big spoon, so soft and sweet that you have to keep on surreptitiously checking your face to make sure they haven’t smeared all over you. But they still make me smile, even when it’s warm outside and the thought of fog is practically unimaginable. What a cheerful fruit.