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?
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! :)
ReplyDeletenope! great idea!
ReplyDeletean so romantic:)
You can't ask for more than that, can you? The picture makes my mouth water!
ReplyDeleteYou are on fire... with the blogging! I love it!
ReplyDeleteAnd 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!
ReplyDeleteThis is such a wonderful little story! Thank you! :)
ReplyDeleteP.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.