Welcome to Poetry Friday. I am "embracing challenges" by participating in this weekly community of all things poetry. Please join Keri at Keri Recommends for this week's Poetry Friday Round-Up.
We have three persimmon trees near the edge of our property. When we built our house, these gnarly looking trees remained standing. When my children were little, we picked up the ripe persimmons from the ground, shook the trees to make some fall, and made our own pulp for persimmon pudding. This process is quite messy and takes many persimmons and hard work to make the pulp. Might be the reason we only did this a handful of times.
Early this week, the few remaining persimmons were holding on and holding out for winter's wrath. After a windstorm today, the trees are now bare and the critters are having a feast of leftovers on the ground. Looking at the seeds on the ground reminded me of one of nature's weather forecasting methods - cracking open the persimmon seeds.
If we see a spoon - expect shovels of snow.
If we see a knife - expect cutting, cold winds.
If we see a fork - expect a mild, warm winter.
An ice storm is on its way as I write this. May all of you in its path be safe. Let us hope the weather folklore was not a knife. (Personally, all I ever see are spoons!)