
Louisville Falls Fountain as seen from Clarksville, Indiana, looking toward downtown Louisville, in 1993. Photo: Wikipedia.
In the fall here in Kentucky, the persimmons are bright orange, soft, lying all over the ground under the shrubby tree. Nothing valuable, nothing precious; they taste mushy, slightly sweet, and don’t lend themselves to being made into jelly or jam.
But they hold a secret…
At a small nature sanctuary near Louisville, I had the pleasure of being shown this secret. The tiny black seed, if carefully split, reveals a white image: we discovered a spoon, which predicts a wet and snowy winter, the spoon referring to a snow shovel. A knife or a fork predicts a different kind of winter. It takes patience and persistance and a small sharp knife to split the seed and reveal the symbol.
I’m a great admirer of patience and persistence, having learned both virtues rather late in life. I imagine an early settler stopping in a wagon to pick up a persimmon and then, while his nag snaps at flies, slowly splitting it to reveal the prophesy.
In the nearby city, there are monuments, man-made, that remind me how quickly all kinds of worldly fame passes. A huge office tower, designed by an architect much admired thirty years ago, is empty, and because it now leans a little, it can’t be used, fixed or razed. A few blocks away, the massive newspaper building that was my father’s pride is also empty, the newspaper mostly gone, the building’s future unsure. I remember when it was built: my father warned that paying the mortgage might bankrupt us, hardly likely, but it frightened me and made it hard to celebrate the building. Of course the mortgage was paid off, but there was no wooden bannister into which to insert the ivory button that, in the 19th century, showed the mortgage and been paid. Patience and persistence…
The Derby Clock my father commissioned from a local artist is long gone from the middle of town; expensive to maintain, its horses that raced on the hour constantly broke down and the city finally destroyed it. The fountain he also commissioned in the Ohio river, copied from one in Lake Geneva, proved a challenge for towboats and was long ago dismantled. The repertory theatre he and my older brother generously supported is silent and shut up at mid-day, although it still produces plays; tickets are bought online. And the handsome offices where I meet with my lawyers is eerily empty; everybody works from home. Sic Gloria Mundi…
But the humble persimmon, unprized, still holds its secret prophecy, and there is still at least one person who has the patience and persistence to dig it out.
And I remember my father, at the end of a long family trip to Europe, exclaiming with delight as we drove home: “Still the most beautiful place in the world!”
So I am grateful.
Bittersweet, indeed. It was delightful to see you and meet Will’s attractive children. Life goes on in many unexpected ways….
I loved seeing the derby clock which I did not know about. I appreciate your work and have introduced many women to it. I have often visited and benefited from Hopscotch House and admire your dedication to the promotion of Kentucky women and feminism. Thank you Sallie for creating opportunities for the women of our state and beyond.
How did you never taste persimmon pudding?! As a child my job as the fruit was coming down, was to carefully look for just fallen persimmons to be pulped for pudding.