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?
6 comments:
Well, the fruit was well past the flowering stage, so in my opinion, yes, you can still claim that he never brings you flowers. LOL! :)
nope! great idea!
an so romantic:)
You can't ask for more than that, can you? The picture makes my mouth water!
You are on fire... with the blogging! I love it!
And the photo with P. is just the "coolest"!
Hmmm I don't think I have ever eaten a persimmon... no idea what they taste like. But you certainly have a husband with style!
This is such a wonderful little story! Thank you! :)
P.S. One of my first childhood memories is of my mother standing on a wooden ladder, picking persimmons - khurma - right from the tree in Lesilidze, Georgia (or is it Abkhazia?). Back in Kyiv, we put the ones that weren't ripe yet on the window sill: gloomy November outside and the wonderful orange fruits - yes, almost like flowers! - inside... It was the fall of 1977, I was almost 4.
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