|Persimmon and Pepperina|
I guess we must just be lucky. All the rain we had must have come at the right time for them to benefit. I've asked Tracey to wait till she sees the first evidence of a bird peck on one of the fruit before she harvests. That way they'll reach full flavour sun-ripened on the tree.
But... I will also ask her to pick about a dozen now to ripen on the kitchen window sill. There are flocks of white cockatoos flying over daily and if they decide the time is right, we'll wake one morning to find the tree stripped. That's certainly what happened to the cherries!
There's no point repeating everything I said when I wrote about them last time, but there's one thing I discovered since then. There are quite a few varieties of persimmon, so what I wrote there doesn't apply to them all.
Even so, having tasted several varieties, I have to say that none of them come close to the subtle and delightful flavour of the ones from our tree.
Now is a good time to share with readers of the blog who may not know about it what I called "The perfect Australian Short Story." I posted it at the same time as the one on persimmons last year, for a reason that will become obvious if you read it too. Maybe I was a little over-enthusiastic in my praise, but not all that much. It is a delightful story.
Finally, let me end with words I quoted from Christopher Hitchens, ones I included in last year's posting but clearly are worth recalling, for obvious reasons. Hitchens ("Hitch") died of cancer in December 2011. I know of few who wrote so powerfully on life and death.
I make preparations both to live and to die every day, but with the emphasis on not dying, and on acting as if I was going to carry on living.That is why I will not say anything about this being the last year for the persimmons, although I "make preparations both to live and to die every day".
|The fruit of Armidale winter|
All photo credits to Tracey James