It is a part of the family history for us.
My father, as I repeatedly told in this blog, was a survivor of WWII as a soldier. I bet he has been threatened with starvation when he was in China as a soldier. That experience might make him like trees with fruites like persimmon or chestnut.
When he was working in the sanatorium at the very same place as we live now, he used to go for studying farming with those fruit plants far away in Shikoku. I was a toddler or a bit older then. After a few days long absence, he came home. Appearing from the woods in front of the sanatorium, I found all of sudden, he was carrying a tiny tricycle for infants. What a surprise and joy to see him again for me! I still remember of that moment seeing him smiling at me with that present to me.
Ever since that event, he has planted fruit trees at various places when he could do that. This big chestnut tree is a heritage of his love to the family. With this note, I have sent some of them to my brother and sister. They were impressed at the gift as well as the story of my father.
I have cooked pretty large amount of chestnuts harvested with sugar, The fruits were boiled with sugar, which had the astringent inner skin. It's a taditional cook named Shibukawani. Elegantly as well as profoundly sweet. The problem is who would enjoy this amount of this chestnut cook.
Fall is deepened in this way here.