I mentioned a recent Courier-Journal article on pawpaws to a couple of my co-workers, and to my surprise they had never heard of a pawpaw tree or tasted it's fruit. If I hadn't had the paper to show them, I don't think they would have believed there is such a thing. Even with the article and pictures in front of them they looked at me as if I were perpetuating some sort of "Pawpaw Conspiracy."

When I lamented the demise of the pawpaw trees that used to grow near my parent's house, my mother reminded me that a large walnut tree had fallen amongst them and wiped out the larger fruit bearing trees. For years I had assumed the pawpaw trees had fallen victim to some blight or drought. I remember enjoying the fruit immensely, but I never witnessed a bountiful crop. I always considered finding a half dozen per season a success.

If you've never seen a papaw, and haven't fallen victim to the conspiracy theorists, you might be interested to know that they are greenish-yellow, 3 to 5 inches long, and ripen in late September. Pawpaws have large brown seeds surrounded by sweet yellow custard-like pulp, and they are quite unlike any other fruit I have ever tasted.

I read a quote by a boy from Indiana that pawpaws "taste like mixed bananers and pears, and feel like sweet pertaters in your mouth." That description seems a bit too graphic, so my advice is to try one before making up your mind.

This spring I found several small groves of pawpaw trees in a lush wood, and I returned recently to search for fruit.

The first pawpaw I had seen in years turned out to be the biggest acorn I have ever seen. I'm sure the only reason the freakishly large thing was still there was because it was too big for a squirrel to carry.

The second pawpaw I had seen in years took an incredibly long time to scrape off the bottom of my left hiking boot. I must have looked like I was performing some sort of tree worshipping dance. There were only a couple other remnants of pawpaws there in the woods, but I found just enough for a taste of the sweet nectar that I remember from many years ago. So the only thing I brought back to disprove the conspiracy is stuck to my shoe.