By Mary Reid Barrow

The other day I noticed I was driving around town with a ripe persimmon stuck to the hood of my car and one in the windshield wiper well too.

That is a sure sign of someone who has a couple of native persimmon trees overhanging her driveway. That and that she also may have one of the squishy fruits stuck to her tennis shoe!

Except in times like those, you’ve  got to love these trees that have stories to tell and small pretty orange fruits with cute black caps this time of year.

Persimmons have been a part of Virginia history since Captain John Smith unwittingly tried an unripe persimmon and said it was so astringent that it would “draw a man’s mouth awrie.” Later he corrected himself and said a ripe persimmon was as “delicious as an apricot.”

You might try one too. Years ago, native persimmons were often used to make breads and puddings. Just wait until the fruit is deep orange and almost squishy ripe, squishy enough not to roll off the car or be easily kicked off the driveway. If it has fallen to the ground on its own and not because the wind was blowing, a persimmon is probably ready to eat.

I used to gather the fruits and freeze them until I had enough to make my own persimmon bread for Thanksgiving. Oh, and I forgot, persimmons have one more drawback:  they have so many big seeds in them that it takes putting a ton of persimmons through a food mill to get enough pulp for a couple of loaves of bread.

I once knew someone who even made earrings for sale out of persimmon pits!

Still, seeds and all, the idea of home grown, old fashioned persimmon bread for the holiday table was worth it.

That is, if the opossums and other critters, even fruit loving butterflies, didn’t find my persimmons first. The old song about a ‘possum up a ‘simmon tree and a raccoon down below waiting for the ‘possum to shake the ‘simmons off the tree goes way back in country music history too.

Last year, a delightful red spotted purple butterfly found some ripe persimmons in the driveway and had its own Thanksgiving feast. The little butterfly walked round the driveway looking for the fruits and sipping their oozy nectar like a drunken sailor.

I remember saying at the time that just the sight of that little butterfly made it worth all the trouble persimmons create.