I'm a poet / essayist / memoirist/
journalist (in the sense of keeping a journal, not of working for a newspaper) and it occurred to me that a blog fits in with all that. If Montaigne, father of the essay, were alive today, he'd keep a blog. This is my self-portrait as frustrated artist who can't believe she's not famous yet. (And because it's part of my artistic endeavor, the whole damn thing is copyrighted. All rights reserved.)
August 2008
Sun Mon Tue Wed Thu Fri Sat
          1 2
3 4 5 6 7 8 9
10 11 12 13 14 15 16
17 18 19 20 21 22 23
24 25 26 27 28 29 30
31            

Categories

  • Arizona
  • Art
    • Dance
    • Literature
      • Austen
      • Nonfiction
      • Poetry
    • Movies and Television
      • Buffy
    • Music
    • Visual Art
  • Blog Stuff
  • Body Stuff
    • Health and Illness
  • Education
  • Environment
  • Food
    • Recipes, Chocolate
    • Recipes, Main Dish
    • Recipes, Sweet But Not Chocolate
    • Side Dishes and Appetizers
  • Gardening
  • Gender
    • Feminism
    • Queerness
  • History
  • Humor
  • Me
    • My Writing
      • Poems
    • Self-Portraits
  • Pets
  • Philosophical Musings
    • Ethics
    • Ontology
  • Politics, Business and Economics
  • Relationships
    • Friends
    • Romantic
    • Sick and Twisted
  • Religion
    • Mission stuff
    • Mormonism
  • Sex
  • Stuff You Wear (Clothing, Textiles, etc)
    • Knitting
    • Shoes
  • Travel
  • Utter Miscellany

Archives

  • August 2008
  • July 2008
  • June 2008
  • May 2008
  • April 2008
  • March 2008
  • February 2008
  • January 2008
  • December 2007
  • November 2007
  • October 2007
  • September 2007
  • August 2007
  • July 2007
  • June 2007
  • May 2007
  • April 2007
  • March 2007
  • February 2007
  • January 2007
  • December 2006
  • November 2006
  • October 2006
  • September 2006
  • August 2006
  • July 2006
  • June 2006
  • May 2006
  • April 2006
  • March 2006
  • February 2006
  • January 2006
  • December 2005
  • November 2005
  • October 2005
  • September 2005
  • August 2005

Recent Entries

  • Write Brain
  • Sponge + Starfish = Scallop?
  • God Fought the Law, and the Law Won
  • The Corporate World Discovers the Benefits of Being Gay Friendly
  • Church Fears Another Marriage Showdown
  • Semi-Precious Sunstone
  • Sunstoned
  • Once More Into the Falls
  • What Every Beacon of Liberty Needs
  • Size Matters, But So Does Cleanliness

Recent Comments

  • Holly on My Pomegranate-Eating Interlude
  • Revena on My Pomegranate-Eating Interlude

Read These

Old Friends

  • Dangerous and True
  • Genius to Spare
  • Lost in Seattle
  • Queer Gnosis
  • Queerest of the Queer
  • Rio Grande Valley Girl
  • While You're on Your Knees

Writers

  • Austen Blog
  • Creek Running North
  • Egalitarian Bookworm
  • First-Person Narrator
  • Gifted Typist
  • Romancing the Tome
  • The Writer's Almanac

Feminists

  • A Little Red Hen
  • Beyond Feminism
  • Carnival of Feminists
  • Feministe
  • Gendergeek
  • I Blame the Patriarchy
  • I See Invisible People
  • I'm not a feminist, but....
  • Kittywampus
  • Mind the Gap!
  • Pandagon
  • Syllogismism
  • Woman of Color
  • Women's Autonomy and Sexual Soivereignty Movements

Academics

  • Attempts by Stephen Frug
  • Bardiac
  • Center of Gravitas
  • Dr. Virago
  • Ivory Tower Dive
  • La Lecturess
  • Margo, darling
  • New Kid on the Hallway
  • Rate Your Students
  • Reassigned Time

Artists

  • Christi Nielsen About to Get Skinny
  • Crafster.org
  • Joey Moon
  • Saviour Onassis Art
  • blondstrawberry

News and Information

  • Bitch (s)hitlist
  • Broadsheet
  • Inter Press Services
  • Women's e News

Mormon-related

  • Bigelow's Rameumptom
  • Exponent II
  • Fiddley Gomme
  • Gay Mormon Stories
  • Latter-day Main Street
  • Letters from a Broad
  • Lolatini
  • MoHoHawaii
  • Mormon Women Writers
  • Review Revolution
  • Sideon's Sanctuary
  • Sister Mary Lisa
  • Sunstone Blog
  • Young Stranger

Not So Easily Classified

  • Chronicles of Tewkesbury
  • Passion of the Dale
  • Real Adult Sex

Knitting

  • Knit Picks
  • Knit and Tonic
  • Knitty
  • Orchard Ranch
  • Punk Knits
  • Steal This Sweater
  • Wendy Knits
  • Yarnstorm

Powered by MT Blogroll

News Feeds


RSS1 | RSS2 | Atom

Credits

Powered by
Movable Type 3.35

Designed by

« Watch for the Guy with the Pineapple | Home | I’m Glad I Didn’t Tell That Joke, Because It’s Still Not Funny »

December 5, 2007

My Pomegranate-Eating Interlude

At the edge of the alley behind Sandra C’s house was a gnarled old pomegranate tree, just on the other side of a barbed wire fence around a big field of hard baked dirt and a few sorry straw-colored weeds that always withered entirely by July. No one ever watered the tree, which didn’t seem to matter much because pomegranate trees do well in the desert, and as no one ever harvested the fruit, we felt at liberty to take it--I suppose we could have been accused of stealing but we never thought of that, because the fruit was so clearly unwanted by anyone else. Sandra, Patrice and I used to ride our bikes into the alley and eat the pomegranates, less because we liked the way they tasted and more because we couldn’t help marveling at what a strange, curious fruit they are, the exterior skin like brittle red boot leather, the interior skin so bitter and parchment-y and dividing the actual flesh of the fruit into strange little compartments. Our mothers could usually tell--and were unhappy--when we’d been eating pomegranates, because the juice produces a bright red stain (more like a dye, actually) impossible to remove from clothing.

pom.jpg

And then the tree died or Sandra moved or both, and I stopped eating pomegranates. I can’t say I particularly missed them. After I was grown and did my own shopping, I rarely noticed them in grocery stores, and when I did, I couldn’t imagine buying one: they were so expensive, and why would I pay all that money for fruit that no one used to want? I think a couple of decades passed in which I didn’t eat a single pomegranate.

Ten years or so ago my mother planted a pomegranate tree at the far edge of the back garden. It looks like this:

pom_tree.jpg

While I was home she asked me to pick a bunch so she could use them in a center piece for Thanksgiving dinner--she didn’t even plan to use them as food. But as I picked the few remaining intact pieces of fruit (they often split open while still on the tree, and birds and bugs LOVE pomegranates), I thought, why don’t I eat some of these?

So I did. I ate a pomegranate every day for the last few days of my visit.

And I still don’t know if I like the fruit. The flavor is tart and acidic, with a hint of soil--that’s right, I’m saying it tastes a little bit like dirt, though a couple of websites refer to the flavor as “nutty.” And they’re just so messy! There’s no easy way to eat a pomegranate. I found all these websites telling you to cut off the top of the fruit, then score the rind, then soak it in water for at least five minutes (though they don’t say why).... But that’s too much work. I prefer to tear a pomegranate apart with my hands and then bite the fruit like an apple or a pear, albeit it more carefully--you have to watch out for that bright red juice.

I guess I should say that I know I like pomegranates; I just don’t know if I like to eat them or enjoy the taste. But the fruit as an object of contemplation, that I like, along with the mere fact of pomegranates’ existence: they’re interesting and weird and they seem ancient to me in ways that, say, watermelon and strawberries don’t. And that’s not just because pomegranates show up in extremely old myths (six pomegranate seeds are what Persephone ate in the underworld, and the reason why she had to go back for six months out of every year) and strawberries don’t. It’s also the way the rind of the fruit always looked aged and weathered. And I guess if I believed that some being had deliberately created everything in the world (and I don’t believe that), I’d consider pomegranates the kind of fruit you’d invent early on in your fruit-creating career, before you got a lot of practice and learned to make things like strawberries, which are the only fruit that has its seeds on the outside of the flesh.

Anyway. I was glad to have another pomegranate-eating period and figure if I go another decade or two without eating any more, it’s no big deal.

Posted by Holly at December 5, 2007 1:10 AM

Comments

I planted a pomegranate tree in my parents' yard when I was ten or so, and I always watch it fruiting with deep interest. I love to eat them. The way I do it is to cut it into a bunch of big chunks with a serrated knife, and then hold each chunk in a bowl of water and use my fingers to push the seeds out from the rind. The rind usually floats, so after all the seeds are in the bottom of the bowl, I scoop out the rind bits that are in the water (there are always some), and then pour off the water and eat the seeds by the handful.

I think I get what you're saying about part of the fascination being in the weirdness and ancientness of the fruit. That's part of what I like, too.

Posted by: Revena at December 8, 2007 11:29 PM

Hi Revena--I'm glad someone else appreciates the fruit, and that there are well-loved trees out there, and fruit that gets eaten on a regular basis. It makes me feel better about the neglect pomegranate trees in my life have endured.... If I ever move back to Arizona, I'll plant another tree, but I'll take better care of it, and I think I'll learn to cook with the seeds--there are some really great recipes I've discovered from poking around the web.

Posted by: Holly at December 9, 2007 9:57 AM

Post a comment




Remember Me?

(you may use HTML tags for style)


Please enter the security code you see here