Apparently, yesterday was National Pawpaw Appreciation Day. So here’s a little pawpaw story from last evening:
Every September my family awaits the pawpaw harvest here on the Little River. They fall into the river and all along the banks. You have to search the ground and gently shake the trees to get the ripe ones.
We had damage to some trees, though, and our harvest hasn’t been as great as in years past. Some have been falling that aren’t ripe, and that’s a first for us.
But in the twilight darkness, my barefoot boy was running back to the house with his arms FULL of ripe pawpaws.
I was standing at the doorway, but he didn’t see me. It was such a delightful sight that I let out a loud gasp. (I really wasn’t expecting so many!) It startled him BIG, and he threw his arms up in the air, pawpaws flying everywhere. Lots of laughter.
The end.
Élan Young 