Poppy's Perspective

I have heard that we share over 90% of our genes with even our most distant mammalian relatives: observe mice. Over the last four days we have been busily harvesting, collecting, hording, or bordering neurosis, whatever you want to call it.
We picked up over 1,000 pounds of walnuts (that is 1,000 pounds after removing the hulls), we dug 456 pounds of sweet potatoes, smoked and canned 35 pints of peppers, filled the dehydrator with okra, froze about 15 pounds of persimmons, made a magnificent haul of Bill's Cherokee Hominy Corn, dug and hung enough peanuts to keep a circus elephant well fed (but not Huxley), and most importantly we soaked up some beautiful fall weather.
It is true I have been hording these beautiful days. I have been packing them away in my soul. I'm not sure days could be better spent. The product is more than just pounds and pints.
My hands are colored black from walnuts, the smell of their husks has stained my nose, the thud of their falling rings in my ear and the view of the breadth of the hollow from up on Betty's ridge has burned into my mind.
Packed into my soul are many of the seasons other harvests as well.
Huxley and I made our way up the hill to the persimmon tree through the bright and beautiful tones of coral berries and sumac and the hues of who knows how many different colors of grasses. Huxley hid under a cedar tree and picked sweet-everlasting and there was an audience of golden rod all under a soft blue sky. When we finally made it to the tree of our quest we began to gather and eat, to eat and gather and eat some more. There were animal trails all through the tall grass and persimmon seeds strewn everywhere: observe our genetic affinity with opposum, deer, coyote, fox, raccoon, and.....mice. Who could pass up that sweet fruit? Where do those persimmon roots dig that sugar from anyway? How do persimmon leaves manage to filter out those sweetest of the sun's photons?
Maybe we share a greater affinity with persimmon trees than has been realized. They are horders as well of the same sort of things as myself and mice: the sweetness of the season and the sugar of the land.