I ate my first persimmons this afternoon. Been watching for them every day lately, the trees are full. There are a bunch of them just down the driveway a spell and they start falling about the time it gets good and cold right where I can see them every day when I drive out. Today was the first day to see a few persimmons down. I stopped the car and jumped out, picked up two off the ground, brushed the sand off and ate them whole. I do love persimmons. Scouring around the vicinity I found two more and had them also. The most seeds any of them had was 4 and some of them were unformed. I know some Ozark Folklore says something about the coming winter in relation to the number of seeds in persimmons but I don’t know what it is.
My brother, who is living with me temporarily, and who has spent most of his life in Arizona, was a little geeked out by my food foraging. It’s one of my traditions. Hopefully there will be enough persimmons to gather and make some bread or a pudding. One year there were so many persimmons I had enough to freeze the seeded pulp in freezer bags and make goodies all year long, That was a delight. I purchased a small recipe book that year full of all sorts of persimmon delights.
If tonight’s pending storm doesn’t blow them all off the trees it looks like there will plenty for me and the deer, who enjoy them as much as I do.
I just came in from the patio where I was enjoying the thick humidity, mosquitos and crickets, tree frogs and distant rumbling thunder. You don’t expect that kind of evening in October but it can happen. It can happen any month of the year really. But, according to the weather gurus this is the last one for quite a while, so out I went after dinner with my bottle of Southern Comfort and that lone cigarette. Propped my feet up in a chair, leaned back and basked in the warm southern night. Sissy and Rover at my feet, although cowering at each rumble of thunder. I watched the mosquitos, gnats and a lone bat fly around the light. Some skitteling in the leaves at the end of the patio got my attention and I noticed some small lizard and crickets making there way around. Half way through my ritual cigarette something slow and sinister caught my eye. Next to the kitchen door and on my patio a copperhead slithered along toward the crickets and lizard. ACK!
“Henry!, there’s a copperhead on the patio and I don’t have a shovel,” I yelled. I could hear him grunting and groaning as he tried to get up from the sofa in a hurry. He had cut and split quite a lot of firewood today and that’s a task he’s not used to, especially on an eighty degree day with humidity.
So he meandered out at about the same speed the sluggish snake was moving, having laid on the cold concrete who knows how long. The snake, not Henry. He took a good look at it as I danced around on my tippy toes being nervous.
“So, that’s a copperhead huh. First one I’ve seen since I’ve been here.” He exclaimed.
“Get the shovel! Kill it!” I implored.
So he went through the house and up the stairs to the other door, got the shovel and brought it back and we had to dig the copperhead out of a pile of leaves under a big log by then. Then, well, you know how the rest of that story goes. Dead copperhead. I have a lot of respect for wildlife, even snakes. But not copperheads on my kitchen porch.
Other than that it’s been a very pleasant evening. The crickets, and tree frogs, the thick air, the distant thunder, all a precursor for the fall weather. It should be here in less than 24 hours now. I’m predicting snow and/or ice before this month is out. Mostly just because it will geek out my Arizona brother.