As autumn and winter braid themselves into a textured tapestry of yesterdays and tomorrows, persimmoning is upon us in all its nectary extravagance. Hint of honey. Scent of cinnamon. Bliss.
I began my morning with the tender caress and sweet kiss of an hachiya persimmon. These photographs tell the story. But the backstory, that’s better told with a sort of collage — a prose poem approaching a lyric essay — mostly curated from previous persimmon posts. A poetics of persimmoning…