“I decided that the most subversive, revolutionary thing I could do
was to show up for my life and not be ashamed.”
~ Anne Lemott
The Pawpaw is getting some love of late. Last week NPR ran a story about the North American fruit. My facebook feed lit up with repostings. Pawpaw trees are plentiful where I come from in Eastern Kentucky. Last year, my Uncle Danny sent to Lexington, by way of mom, a seedling hardly more than six inches tall. It had a single leaf. He said to plant it right away. That was October. Then came the brutal winter. The kind of long-lasting freeze that cause temperate foliage to die a slow, painful death; decorating spring knee-deep in barren branches. I was pretty sure my little pawpaw tree was dead as a post. As I was about to pull the little brown stick from the ground, a tiny green leaf down in the tall grass caught my eye. The pawpaw had survived. Three leaves later, Riley Morrow decided the pawpaw needed to die. I think he thought it was a weed. That boy tried his best to kill the little tree. He, too, failed. Even though Riley ripped every leaf off the pawpaw, four new leaves have since grown back. And because our rainfall has been plentiful, new leaves continue to grow (that’s true for my apple trees, too). I love my little pawpaw tree. He’s got a strong will to live.
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