My dad’s gloriously colourful persimmon tree was always a heartwarming sight on a grey wintery day. Every year it was laden with persimmons, the branches sagging from the plump orange fruit. The year before last we picked 10 big bags full and delivered them to all the Greek and Italian families in the street who just love them. Panagiotis next door, would get the most bags. This was our payback for all the beautiful lemons we could help ourselves to from his tree which overhung the fence.
Sadly I no longer get to see this tree or enjoy its fruit because my dad’s house has been sold but I do have some photos to remember it and they do cheer me up when I see them.