This is the old service station at Harcum, in neighboring Gloucester County. The road from which this photo was taken leads down to a public landing on the Piankatank River.
Welcoming you down to the river and the landing is this gorgeous barn, which I've photographed before at a different time of year.
It is physically impossible for me to drive past this barn without stopping to say hello, so I did.
Just past the barn at the end of the road is the Piankatank River and the public landing. And something I wasn't expecting at all: persimmon trees.
There were more of them lining the shoreline here than I've seen in many a day, and the persimmons were ripe for eating.
If you've never had persimmons before, they're just as sweet as candy--but only the ones which have dropped to the ground.
If you eat a persimmon that isn't quite ripe?
Your mouth turns inside outwards; your tongue curls backwards; your eyes roll back in your head; and you stomp the ground profusely--all the while gasping for breath and crying for your Mumma (pronounced muh' muh).
Note: This is the same reaction most people have to CBW's cooking, too.
The persimmons were such a nice surprise. (Above is an example of one that's ready for eatin'.)
They remind me of my childhood when I'd roam around the yard
Hoping to share these memories with my children, I picked up a few and put them in the car. Later that evening after picking Son and Daughter up from their after-school activities, I handed them some to sample.
Much to my surprise they snatched them up and gobbled them down like it was old hat. When I asked them if they'd had them before, they said, "Yep. You gave us some once. Or twice. A few times, actually." Then they proceeded to recite my own persimmon story back to me.
Hopefully they'll gloss over the part about
Have you ever had a persimmon?