Of Persimmon Trees

Like most people, there are a lot of things that make me somewhat unreasonably happy. Like the rare turquoise color of the sky that you occasionally see on an Autumn evening. Or a cup of hot coffee. Or the sun streaming through a canopy of leaves on a bright spring day. Or persimmon trees. That's right- persimmon trees always make me laugh and smile.

There is something very personable and unique about Persimmon trees. After the cold winds of winter have blown all the leaves from the trees, the vibrant little fruits still cling to the branches, as if to prove to the world that they are stronger than the pull and force of the elements. When everything else is quietly retreating into hibernation, they are full of life and buoyancy. They always seem to be working hard, fully determined to outlive everything else...




The funny thing is, I've never actually tasted a persimmon fruit. In fact, and for no particular reason, I've always harbored a passionate aversion to them.

So next time life (or a friend) hands me a persimmon, I'll smile and say thank you and then set it on the counter and hope somebody else wants it.