In good news, the 2023 persimmons maturing — albeit a decidedly smaller subset of the overall fruit that adorned our three persimmon trees at the beginning of the season — are just possibly going to reach the finish line.
For the last several summers… [I’ve gotten] high on the hope that our three persimmon trees will bear edible fruit. I check them most days, monitor the magical metamorphosis from bloom to minuscule fruit. Day by day, the tiny green bundle swell. Little by little, they earn my hoping confidence, my persimmon optimism. (Source: Persimmon Optimism)
But each year my dreams are dashed. The maturing persimmons suddenly, inexplicably abort. The phenomenon, “premature fruit drop”, has many potential causes, but we’ve failed to identify the problem with our trees, growing conditions, etc.
But, as I’ve said previously, ringing my hands has produced no improvement, so I’m yielding to the forces of nature.
Let’s sidestep the vexing fact that almost a dozen years into cultivating three persimmon trees in Rosslyn’s orchard we’ve never produced a single edible persimmon. (Source: Persimmons & Seasonality)
I’ve done my part. Nature will do hers.
I’m leaning into the possibility that they will endure and mature… Let nature accept and reward my persimmon optimism. (Source: Persimmon Optimism)
At the risk of tempting fate, I can’t help mentioning that this is the latest we’ve held on to any persimmon fruit. In previous years, all of the fruit of drop by this point. This year two of the trees carry fruit. One only a few fruit, but the other, quite a few more.
And, as you can witness in these last two photographs, a few fruit are even beginning to change color. Ripening? Time will tell.
I go to sleep this evening, guardedly, cautiously, persistently optimistic that this year, the summer of 2023, the year of rain without end, will finally reward us with ripe, edible persimmons. I go to sleep this evening with at least a few remaining 2023 persimmons maturing…
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