“Ajumma said she dropped something off,” my mother texts from work. “Check outside.” I do and soon hold a box heavy with gotgam, dried persimmons, before the sun has fully risen. Throughout the spring and summer this year, we’ve received deliveries from my mother’s friends’ (my ajummas) gardens, allowing us to stretch our grocery shopping to monthly runs while we enjoyed squash, green onions, chile peppers, tomatoes, a legion of kkaennip, and chives, tangled together in their wild length. These