I want to say to the persimmon trees: Thank you, I love you.

When I picked the last sweet persimmon fruit at the end of October, a great deal of indescribable gratitude rose in my heart. Many images from the cultivation process appeared in my mind one by one. Of course, what came to mind was not only the fruit trees, but also many people I had met over the year and the things I had experienced, but in this post I want to talk about the fruit trees and put my gratitude toward them into words.

Switching to the Shuimei farming method was a matter of this year, and starting not to spray pesticides or apply fertilizer was also a matter of this year. I still remember that last year I partially converted to organic farming, used organic materials, and applied organic fertilizer. At that time I thought that I had invested more cost than during the conventional period, and I hoped the fruit trees would grow safely and non-toxically, still bearing sweet fruit. But the facts were not like that. When we invest, we make demands, and when the results do not match those demands, a feeling of disappointment, like hating iron for not becoming steel, arises in the heart. Because of this, our relationship with the fruit trees was somewhat like that of master and servant, but we had reversed the roles and made ourselves the masters, so the fruit trees were unhappy. How could unhappy fruit trees grow good fruit?

During this year, organic friends, members of community college organic classes, and fellow natural farming students often came to visit. Through one tour after another of the natural farming orchard, I found that in the natural farming orchard, where no pesticides are sprayed and no fertilizer is applied, the trees still set fruit and still happily spread their leaves. Suddenly I could understand the words of Grandpa Apple, Akinori Kimura: people cannot produce apples; what can grow apples is the apple tree. So I understood clearly that the master is the persimmon tree, and I am merely a servant helping it return to health and then flower and fruit normally. Besides my parents, what has raised me is the fruit it grows, which allows me and my family to make a living. Selfless as it is, it only needs to absorb the essence of the earth, sunlight, air, and water to grow and provide fruit for us. How could I not be grateful to them?

In the past, under conventional farming, I only made demands on the fruit trees. However much fertilizer I gave, I hoped they would give back that much in return. I did not understand at all the principle our ancestors spoke of: when you eat the fruit, give thanks to the tree. Perhaps in the past, the vegetables and fruits in the wild were exactly what kept people alive during times of famine. Having received the grace of being saved or kept alive, people learned to be grateful to the fruit trees. Now we should humbly learn the wisdom of our ancestors, and believe that these fruit trees can also feel our gratitude toward them.

Switching to natural farming naturally brought one problem after another. The first to bear the brunt was fruit drop caused by pests and diseases, and another was attracting many pests, such as longhorn beetles and Oriental fruit flies, so the damaged portion was also especially large. Recently, while dealing with these fruit trees injured by longhorn beetle holes, I always say to these sweet persimmon trees: I am sorry, in the past we treated you in the wrong way. I believe that in the future, with this method of no pesticides and no fertilizer, you will live more happily, and you will also become stronger.

Teacher Chen Hui-wen of Xingfu Farm once shared the findings of an experiment. There were three potted plants. One was often spoken to kindly, one was often scolded, and the other was ignored. The one that grew best was, of course, the one spoken to kindly, but the one that grew worst was not the one that was scolded, but the one that was ignored. So through talking to plants and holding gratitude in the heart, I believe plants will also grow better. Finally, I want to say to my persimmon trees: Thank you, I love you.