I was a country boy. I ate many pawpaws. I know they like some shade. The groves of them in the woods were usually under cover with some sunshine. We lived in the woods as boys. I so miss that taste. I had two on my old property and the birds usually ate the few pawpaws before I could get to them. The lake gave me a gift once again.
There is more to this story. I heard a commotion in the boat last spring and lifted up the cover to investigate. There were little kitties. You woudn’t believe all the hissing, arched backs, and teeth showing...all but one. She came right over to the bench seat corner and lifted her little front paws up toward me to get her. I fell in love with the little runt immediately. She died this winter from some respiratory problems and I buried her in the tree planter in the garden that my brother had given me last summer. Will there be a pawpaw tree, you betcha.
I did not taste one until I was well into middle age. Still the most amazing taste of my life. I only get 7 or 8 from 4 trees. Pollination is tough. And winds and birds.