Autumn rambles reveal native delight
- John Lorson: The Rail Trail Naturalist
- October 10, 2024
- 812
My bicycle rides home from work take on a special urgency at this time of year. After a full season of days that seemed to last every bit as long as I wanted them to, I’m suddenly faced with creeping darkness at the very same time the color on the hillsides turns to its vibrant best. At least a few times a week, I’ll ride right up to nightfall just to take it all in. There are discoveries to be made, even on the same beaten paths I travel time and time again.
There now seem to be self-serve flower stands on every other country corner, a growing trend (pardon the pun) I would likely patronize on a regular basis if I didn’t have to cram their wares into a sweaty backpack to get them home. I did however make a stop at a peculiar variation of one such stand a few weeks back. The sign read “Pawpaws for Sale.”
Somewhat “new” to the pawpaw, I know I am not alone. Having lived well into my 50s wandering the same small orbit in Northeast Ohio, I had heard of the pawpaw (It’s Ohio’s official native fruit, you know) but never actually seen one until a co-worker brought a pair of pale-green, potato-sized fruits into the office a few years back. What the ungainly offering lacked in curb appeal it more than made up for in a decidedly tropical, banana-mango flavor.
I was instantly smitten, but when I told others about my new discovery, I found very few folks in this area had actually seen a pawpaw, much less partaken of the custardy, yellow flesh.
The largest fruit in North America, the pawpaw tree was used by Native Americans for food, fiber and small wooden implements for thousands of years and was known by many different names. The name pawpaw is actually one of those frequent European misnomers, similar to the term Indian, that came about when an early explorer mistook the pawpaw for the papaya — an unrelated tropical fruit of the Caribbean.
The pawpaw’s native range covers most of Eastern North America. An inhabitant of the forest understory, the pawpaw often grows in a distinctive conical shape with large dog ear-shaped leaves. Once you see one, they’re easy to pick out. Because the leaves and branches seem to be largely resistant to deer depredation, pawpaw trees make a nice addition to the landscape and grow relatively quickly yet never threaten to take over the neighborhood as they top out at about 30 feet.
If all this talk of pawpaws has you excited to try some of the fruit on your own, the best I can do is wish you good luck. You’re unlikely to find pawpaw among your typical grocery store offerings as the fruit bruises easily in transit and has a very short shelf life — two traits that are distinctly frowned upon in the produce aisle.
My best suggestion is to get out there to roam the countryside from early September to early October and hope to stumble across a roadside stand. It’ll be an adventure worth taking and a taste worth trying.
If you have comments on this column or questions about the natural world, write The Rail Trail Naturalist, P.O. Box 170, Fredericksburg, OH 44627, or email jlorson@alonovus.com. You also can follow along on Instagram @railtrailnaturalist.