The past week has been a funny bit when it comes to persimmons. And it is such a random thing and such a random fruit. Everywhere, I have turned, I have come across persimmons. They are such a forgotten, barely understood fruit. Have you ever had one?
Persimmons remind me smushy, squishy, swishy cantaloupe. That is, if cantaloupes were deep red and orange and were cool. In some ways, they are like a distant cousin of pumpkins. Which makes total sense that persimmons are ripening now.
My mom never ate a persimmon in her life. Yet, oh, how I wish my mom were still alive to see all these lovely persimmons that have come and gone in my space the past week.
My next door neighbor brought over a box of persimmons with a wide range of eating suggestions. Apparently, I can freeze them and eat them as if they were a slushy. I can most certainly go for that. Then, I was at an outside meeting, and a person brought in a bowl of persimmons from their house. Such loveliness. I find it such a nice gesture to bring something from one’s piece of earth to others. In this day and age, we need so many more gestures like these.
My mom would, just about now, be telling me that it is a sign. She then look everwhere, high and low, to define that sign. She would even be looking up persimmons in each and every one of her dream books.
And to clarify, to see a persimmon in your dream refers to happiness which you will have or news you don’t expect to hear. Hmm. This sounds intriguing.
Of course, I didn’t dream of persimmons as I was given them in real, waking life. However, perhaps tonight I will be dreaming of persimmons and a bounty of happiness will await.