 | | 29/09/2019 14:21
Sur le blog Bleu Avenue
The Persimmon Tree
One of my fondest memories from my childhood is walking down the hill with my mother hand-in-hand from our old yellow farm house to eat persimmons. It was always late September before they were ripe and after we'd eaten the fruit we would crack open the seeds to see what kind of winter we would have. If there was a little white spoon in the center of the seed, it meant shovels full of snow. If, on the other hand, it looked like a little white knife it meant a sharp cold winter, but dry. Was it accurate? Who cares, it was fun. By the time winter rolled around, I'd long since forgotten the fruit forecast, but I did look forward to...
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