While in Mr Cason's Garden, we came across information about persimmon trees. It reminded me of my pony Chessy - he was given to me when I was eight and taught me a LOT!
He LOVED persimmons. The farm I grew up on had a large persimmon tree in the middle of the "long pasture". When the persimmons were ripening, Chessy could always be found under that tree - I don't think any other animal on the farm had a chance to get any! Chessy would have loved the big persimmons that I found in Mr Cason's Garden.
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| Information about persimmons |
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| Fruit on the tree |
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| Another shot of fruit on the tree |
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| One that I picked up that was on the ground |
I have to take a few moments to share some memories of Chessy.
When mom was pregnant with Jimmy, a man in the county told her that if she had a boy, he would give him a bottle of whiskey, but if it was a girl, he would give her a pony. I guess Jimmy got the bottle of whiskey, but when I was 8 years old, I got the pony, Chestnut, nicknamed Chessy. He was not a chestnut color - which is a reddish color with light mane and tail (like Secretariat). Chessy's coloring is hard to describe - in the summer, he would be a dark grey, but his winter coat was quite shaggy and lighter in color as I recall.
The first time I rode Chessy, we were in the "long pasture" (the one where the persimmon tree was), and as I recall, the whole family was there. I think we were about done for the day, and I rode Chessy through the gate from the long pasture into the barnyard area. I don't know what caused it, but Chessy decided to take off with me - he got the bit between his teeth and took off running, behind the "old house" (the Poplar Springs house where Jimmy and Regina now live), up the hill and down the other side. I was pulling on the reins with all of my eight-year old strength - I didn't know that I needed to "saw" the reins back and forth to get them out of his teeth. At some point, he decided to stop (no clue why he decided to stop either). I got off and started the long walk leading him back up to where the family was - sobbing as I walked. As I recall, Dad met up with us behind the Poplar Springs house - running after the pony and me. He saw me sobbing and demanded, "Are you hurt?"
"My pony ran away with me...."
"ARE YOU HURT?"
"No but my pony ran away..."
"Get back on that pony."
"No Daddy, he ran away..."
"GET BACK ON THAT PONY!"
I got back on Chessy and Dad led us back up to the long pasture. He knew that if I didn't get back on, I would always be afraid - so it was the right thing to do, even if my eight-year-old brain didn't think so!
When we got back to the long pasture, Dad got onto Chessy. Chessy was a pony - small - Dad could probably touch the ground with his feet when he was astride Chessy. Dad took him back through that same gate, and Chessy tried to take off again. But, Dad knew how to stop him (heck, he could have put his feet down to stop him!).
That was the first of many lessons Chessy taught me - ponies may be small in stature, but they are wily critters. He would brush next to tree trunks to try to scrape my leg off his side. He would go under a large evergreen in our yard that had branches about a foot higher than his back to try to scrape me off. He took off with me many more times (though I eventually learned how to get the bit out of his teeth and get him stopped). Maybe partially because they are usually only ridden by inexperienced riders, ponies learn to get away with a LOT of stuff.
Another memory I have of Chessy, I can't really blame him for... when I was a kid, I was very allergic to poison ivy. Of course, there was a lot of it in the woods, and Chessy would get into it. I rode him bareback one time when he had evidently been rolling in poison ivy - I had on shorts - I ended up with a massive case of poison ivy on the insides of my legs -- ARGH it was bad!
Chessy lived out his years with us - I think Mr Lee brought him to us because the family who had him had outgrown a pony and he was not being well taken care of. After I was too big to ride him, he was still on the farm. The Kilduffs, our neighbors across the road, had a mare who wanted horse-companionship, and she would jump their fence to come over to visit ours. Nothing seemed to dissuade her. I think I was away at college at the time, but the decision was made to see if Chessy would satisfy the horse-companionship need - and he did! He kept the Kilduff's mare happy on their side of the road to the end of his days.
I was glad to see the persimmon tree at Callaway Gardens to remind me of Chessy!
