Just moments ago I harvested four persimmons. That will be the total harvest for the year and on paper it sounds pretty paltry. But year over year we have a 400% increase in yield so when reported that way it sounds pretty good.

The thing is I have both a persimmon tree and squirrels. The former by choice, the latter by geography. The two things are fine to have together so long as you have no interest in eating the fruit of the tree; but as it turns out I planted the tree because I wanted the fruit. I am not immune to appreciating the beauty of the persimmon, even without fruit the beauty of the leaves turning in the fall is spectacular, and the bright green of new leaves in the spring is a welcome shock of color. The canopy provides a pleasant shade on hot days, the graceful limbs provide structure in space during the bare months. It is a wonderful tree truly. And it also makes delicious fruit that I want to eat. So do the squirrels.

Last year I waited too long. The persimmons were a beautiful orange with just a touch of ruddy green left and I said, “I’ll harvest tomorrow afternoon when they are perfect.” There were perhaps a dozen on the tree. The next morning every one was gone. Gone is such a complete way that had you not seen the tree the day before you would not have known anything had been there. But there was a broken leaf on the ground, and a crown from the fruit on a fence post and I knew.

This year I vowed to take the fruit before they could but with a persimmon you have to patient. The fruit struggles to ripen off the tree so you have to wait until they are truly ready to pick. I thought I’ll get them a day, maybe two days before “perfect” and stay ahead of the squirrels. But all summer the squirrels have been sampling, they too are trying to stay just ahead of me and not wanting to miss out on the treat. They are also less particular about fruit quality.

At the beginning of the season I had a couple dozen, two days ago I was down to eight. Today I picked four that are just blushing orange and which are now in a paper bag with an apple in the prayerful hope of ripening. It was the best I could do if I wanted a chance.

I’m sure you have sat in a meeting and heard someone say, “don’t let perfect be the enemy of the good.” Oft quoted from Voltaire we who are trying to move a project or a decision along try to remind people that it is better to do something than to keep striving for the “perfect” thing that in 99% of situations simply does not exist anyway. But just one more round, one more tweak, one more perspective. Whatever that one more is for you, and in the meantime your competitor across town launched with an inferior whatever and is already in market and now you are behind. The world is not waiting for perfect because the world is not perfect. The world is “good.”

I’ve eaten perfect persimmons, indeed I would suggest I’ve eaten more than one perfect persimmon. Just enough firmness for a bite, but tender and spicy sweet. On bread spread with soft cheese. Crispy with a little chalkiness watching the birds in the bottle brush. All were perfect, all were different, all were more about me and what I was doing than they were about anything else.

We’re not meant to be perfect. We are already good. The squirrels know it and they are not waiting for that whatever validation it is that we assign to the right moment to do something. This is the moment right now, this is good. I’ll let you know how the persimmons taste in a week.