The Persimmon Tree

There is only one way to eat persimmons: completely ripe. They have to be meltingly soft, almost translucent, then frozen. Sliced in half and eaten with a spoon, they are better than any ice cream or sorbet, and have just the faintest trace of astringency around the edges. I LOVE them.

I'm not so sure about the tree though. I originally planted it out on the sunny bank, where I could see it from the kitchen window. I envisioned it surrounded by apricot colored roses and California poppies. (Never mind that the poppies bloom in February, the roses peak in April and the persimmons ripen in late October. A girl can dream, can't she?)

But somehow, blue and grey colors took over that part of the garden! It's beautiful in the springtime, but not so lovely when the large glossy leaves turn red and the little branches of the tree sag and collapse under the weight of the brilliant orange globes.



This year, I picked the fruit as soon as it turned color and allowed it to ripen on my kitchen counter. The birds were cheated, but the little tree was grateful.