Some husbands bring their wives flowers...
Mine brings me...
Branches of Persimmons!!
We have a charming next door neighbour... an elderly man named Abdullah who hails from the north of Albania. If only he could speak English- oh the stories he could tell us!
One night not too long ago he was patiently waiting by our gate. Waiting for the Big P to get home from work. When he arrived, Abdullah waved to P and led him into his garden. He climbed up a ladder a tore a whole branch from his persimmon tree and then handed it to P.
I was in my office when I heard something rustling up the stairs. Lo and behold! In came P with this heavily laden and unusual bouquet! Some were still hard and I put those in a bowl; some were perfectly ripe and I gently placed those in the freezer (later you simply slice off the tops and eat with a spoon-yumyum!); and some were already wayyyy over-ripe and were dripping a trail of sticky juice throughout the house.
Can I still claim he never brings me flowers?