Rose

The first person to tell me about this fruit was my mother, and the one who peeled it for me to eat was also my mother. Every summer, the scorching heat reminds me of the familiar image of my mother using a sharp betel nut knife to peel the thin skin of the persimmon, and she gave me each piece of soft, sweet, and fragrant fruit.

My village has both sandy and sandy soil, so wherever the rose grows, it thrives. The tree trunk is tall and towering, providing shade for the star fruit tree, guava tree, and the sweet potato shoots growing nearby.

My family does not grow roses. But a relative of mine, a very close grandmother, had an ancient rose tree in her house. My arms could not wrap around the tree trunk when I was a child. Now, I can hold the whole tree with both hands, but the huge, massive mark of the rose tree's canopy is still deeply imprinted in my memory.

Every early summer, the velvet roses quietly bloom. They remain silent as if no one cares about them. But once they bear fruit and breathe in the dew and wind, without any need for fanfare or noise, anyone passing by the velvet roses cannot resist looking up at the clusters of fruit with their funny orange-red color and the soft, silky hairs.

Persimmons are a precious gift in my hometown. My mother used to say that if you force them, they will not ripen well. That is why people have to wait until the fruit is ripe and fragrant, falling to the ground by itself, then they carefully pick them up, put them in baskets lined with soft cloth and take them to the market.

From mid to late summer is also the time when velvet persimmons ripen. Velvet persimmons are as big as a fist, look like persimmons on the outside but are covered with a layer of smooth, red-orange fur. The aroma of the fruit is gentle, sweet, with a hint of apple, savory, and passion fruit.

Although it looks so solid on the outside, you only need to use a sharp knife to lightly peel off the thin skin to enjoy the delicious, sweet flavor of the velvet persimmon. The flesh is ivory white and soft. As soon as you put it in your mouth, the rich aroma and sweetness permeate. Unlike other sweet fruits, eating velvet persimmon is hard to make anyone bored. The first fruit has a strong aroma, but the second fruit has a unique aroma. Sometimes it feels like you are eating an apple, sometimes you think you are eating the wrong fruit, and over and over again the aroma reminds you of the sweetness of passion fruit.

The surprise in the flavor keeps challenging the eater, so that in a flash, when looking down at the basket of fruit, only the shells of the persimmons remain. It turns out that while being busy analyzing the aroma and delicious taste, we must have forgotten that the number of fruits is gradually decreasing.

Recently, having some free time, I leisurely walked on the street. My eyes suddenly noticed the shimmering red velvet color in the distance. It turned out that in the garden house on the corner of a crowded street, the owner still cherished a corner of the garden with a tall, green velvet rose canopy, branches and leaves laden with fruit. Unexpectedly, memories of my childhood came back from somewhere. Those were the hot summer mornings, the sky was blue, I hurriedly cycled to my grandmother's house to pick up the velvet rose fruits that had fallen late at night. Or on the porch, shimmering with the sunlight pouring down the seeds, my mother used her hat to fan herself, while quickly peeling each soft, ripe velvet rose fruit she bought from the market for her only daughter in the family.

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