The Persimmons 



inches long, thick, shining above, paler beneath; petioles short, 

 stout. Flowers, June, after leaves, dioecious, small, yellowish 

 green; staminate in 3-flowered cymes, scarcely opening; pistillate 

 solitary, wide open, with imperfect stamens. Fruit a reddish- 

 yellow berry i to i^ inches in diameter, pulpy, sweet, edible 

 when ripe; astringent when green. Preferred habitat, light, sandy 

 soil, or moist woodlands, fence rows and abandoned fields. Dis- 

 irihution, Rhode Island to Florida; west to Kansas and Texas. 

 Uses: Worthy of planting for its rich green foliage in late summer, 

 and its graceful habit. Comes readily from seed, but is trans- 

 planted with difficulty. Fruit shows little improvement in culti- 

 vation. Wood is used in turnery, for shoe lasts, plane stocks 

 and shuttles. 



There is no better way to fix the persimmon tree indelibly 

 in the mind than to yield to the importunities of Southern friends 

 and taste the fruit before it is ripe. You will be quite willing 

 after that to wait until the frost (or whatever influence it is) 

 mellows the puckery little plum. A traveller in the colony of 

 Virginia wrote his friends in England about "the pessemins that 

 grow on a most high tree." He describes them, with a fervency 

 born of experience, as "harsh and choakie and furre in a man's 

 mouth like allam!" Some of us say, "Amen!" 



Possibly some part of the persimmon's popularity is due 

 to its exclusiveness. Certainly no other tree keeps its fruit so 

 far out of reach of eager hands and thirsty lips. " The longest 

 pole takes the persimmon," is a proverb that has passed the bounds 

 of the Southern States, and taken on a much broader significance 

 than its originator probably intended. 



The persimmon tree is not confined to the South, though 

 its finest proportions are reached in Oklahoma forests, and it 

 "feels the cold" in Ohio and New York. Northerners are likely 

 to content themselves with a taste even when the fruit is at its 

 best. It is strangely different from other things. But the 

 Southerner born and bred knows and delights in this native 

 fruit. The Negro revels in it, and begrudges the opossum all he 

 steals, forgetting that a 'simmon tree when fruit is ripe belongs 

 to the first comer. "'Possums an' 'simmons come together, an' 

 bofe is good fruit." This statement sums up the feelings of the 

 Negro on two vital topics. The opossum camps down in the 

 neighbourhood of a well-laden persimmon tree and fattens on its 



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