I ran into a friend the other day at the Golden Notebook in Woodstock. He reached into a shopping bag pulled something out and put it into my hand. It was a Japanese persimmon, still hard and a bit cold from the air outside. A small, simple act but it really stopped me in my tracks. I just couldn't stop staring at the persimmon nestled in my palm. It was as smooth and marvelously opaque as soapstone- as dense and hefty, too. The burnt orange of the skin just radiated like an ember. The smooth symmetry of the fruit, contrasted with the ruffled, brown remnants of blossom- ah, it was just enthralling. I sat and contemplated it for a while, resisting the urge to gurgle "preciousssss...."
It now sits on my bedside table reminding me of the beauty and perfection of nature, and to take the time to appreciate her gifts and the generosity of friends.
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