There's an interesting essay/transcript here (http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/nova/transcripts/2716satoyama.html) that mentions the roles of red dragonflies and persimmon trees in the traditional Japanese agricultural cycle; the website linked from the top of there looks like it contains a lot of neat stuff, but I haven't had a chance to look through it so far.
Here in the SF Bay Area, it's a common sight throughout late autumn and much of the winter for leafless persimmon trees to hang onto their reddish-orange fruit like holiday decorations. This is especially impressive because the original fruit orchards that used to dominate the region have long been displaced by suburban sprawl and Silicon Valley, so instead of the trees being pruned to a manageably pickable height in neat rows, most of them are feral yard trees 30-50 feet high, with a large overhead canopy of persimmon-laden branches. Most of them are left there uneaten unless the neighborhood squirrels like them; I am told that one should never, ever park one's car beneath a persimmon tree at certain times of year once the fruits finally start to drop. Occasionally a homeowner actually tries to pick all of the fruit that their ladder will reach, and then leaves them in a large, plaintive pile next to their driveway with a "Free Persimmons" sign.
But I digress. Obviously the winters here are milder than in Otsu, which makes me think that perhaps in their original setting, the persimmons freeze in place on the tree. I can't find any confirmation of this, but there are some mentions here and there that certain types of persimmon fruit don't really lose their astringent bitterness until they've experienced at least one good frost, which might explain why nobody eats the ones in their yards here unless they have lots of room in their freezers.
Re: KenshinxTomoe
Here in the SF Bay Area, it's a common sight throughout late autumn and much of the winter for leafless persimmon trees to hang onto their reddish-orange fruit like holiday decorations. This is especially impressive because the original fruit orchards that used to dominate the region have long been displaced by suburban sprawl and Silicon Valley, so instead of the trees being pruned to a manageably pickable height in neat rows, most of them are feral yard trees 30-50 feet high, with a large overhead canopy of persimmon-laden branches. Most of them are left there uneaten unless the neighborhood squirrels like them; I am told that one should never, ever park one's car beneath a persimmon tree at certain times of year once the fruits finally start to drop. Occasionally a homeowner actually tries to pick all of the fruit that their ladder will reach, and then leaves them in a large, plaintive pile next to their driveway with a "Free Persimmons" sign.
But I digress. Obviously the winters here are milder than in Otsu, which makes me think that perhaps in their original setting, the persimmons freeze in place on the tree. I can't find any confirmation of this, but there are some mentions here and there that certain types of persimmon fruit don't really lose their astringent bitterness until they've experienced at least one good frost, which might explain why nobody eats the ones in their yards here unless they have lots of room in their freezers.