During my early childhood we lived in an old house with a huge backyard – the typical 1/4 acre kiwi section. Running alongside the north fenceline was the lean-to farm shelter and a garden shed. The garden shed, like most others of its era, was held together by whatever vine was growing over it.
Dad and I were sitting on the step of the garden shed and all around us was a well established passion fruit vine. I would have only been about 3 years old. Dad had pulled out his red pocket knife, which he always carried in his pocket, and we feasted on passion fruit plucked straight from the vine. I remember Dad telling me “don’t tell your mother and you better eat all your dinner!”
I can’t remember whether I did eat all my dinner that day but after more than thirty years, I still smile whenever I eat passion fruit.