Sill, in the Season of Ripening Persimmons
When the persimmon tree in the courtyard begins to turn, days at Sill slow down a little.
There is a single persimmon tree in Sill's courtyard. It was here before we restored the house, so I honestly don't know its age. What I do know is that come October, the tree becomes the master of the house. The morning sun passes through its branches at a slowly lowering angle, and the stripe of light lying on the wooden floor grows longer by the day.
Guests in this season tend to start their day standing in the courtyard with a cup of coffee, looking up to check how far the persimmons have ripened. Picking them is our job, but we leave a few good ones on the floor at check-in. If you get one that has turned soft and sweet, consider it a lucky day.
We go to the countryside to watch the seasons change with our own eyes. At Sill, a single persimmon tree was enough.
At night, turn off the courtyard lights and sit in the bathtub. In a darkness denser than summer's, you can just make out the outline of the persimmons by moonlight. This season explains best why we never put in a television.
If you are curious about Sill before the last persimmon falls, pick a date between October and November. It is also the season when the broth at the noodle house down the lane tastes its warmest.
