Persimmons
Photo by Vlada Teper This fruit tastes like my childhood in Kishinev, Moldova. I remember being eight or younger, standing on Iskra Street with my grandmother, and trying to rescue an exploded persimmon. We laughed as the juice made our hands sticky and I gulped down the fruit before it became a puddle on the sidewalk. Recently, my parents collected their biggest persimmon harvest yet, from the tree they planted in Charleston (a portion of their harvest appears in the photo.) Their...
