My love of orange started with the Persimmon.
Not a fruit that most American children even have on
their radar, the Persimmon means so much to me.
Persimmon for me is Fall, is the change of weather, is
the pumpkin scented mush on the lawn with the first rain,
is the only reason to wear my baseball mitt all year,
is the money for my childhood Christmas presents,
is Thanksgiving jello,
and is so bright on the high limbs of the tree
skeleton that we can't get to way into December.
The smell of muddy grass, the high school band at football
games you could hear from my house, Saturday morning
soccer, Halloween window painting, trick or treating in
the pitch black, and Persimmons.
Persimmon was always around.
The taste wasn't much to talk about and it was
responsible for the lion's share of outdoor messes,
so we really took for granted its orange beauty.
And now that it is gone, I miss it. A lot.
The ripe persimmon is almost crimson in color.
the Joel Dewberry Persimmon Palette.
My sister and I beneath our beloved Persimmon tree.
No excuse for our fantastic nineties style.
Perhaps the unfinished kitchen corner can be a home
to Persimmon color fabric and Persimmon inspired wall