Yes, i've read thd story of Hades and Persephone. Aside from that, we Persians have a celebration at the end of fall named Yalda (Yalda is the longest night in our calendar and also it signifies ths arrival of Lady Winter in our folklore). We celebrate this on Dec 21, which is the end of fall.
The celebration begins when family members gather around and the grandparents start reading sonnets from Hafiz for each family member. Then, they start eating from the Yalda table, which contains a bowl of pomegranates, watermelons, dried nuts and a cake. I love this celebration.
I love the mindful, sensual bloody mess of eating pomegranates, the red stains on fingers crafting this globular fruit into art, the pool of juice that forms on the wooden board, the plink plink of seeds hitting the bowl, the juice bitter and sweet in my mouth, the crunch under my teeth, the way my body feels stronger after eating their iron beads, the way the light shines through these jewels, and the good fortune etched deeply into the roots of the trees that bear them, pomegranates, a word, a fruit, a dream, good tidings and blessings indeed.
Beautiful writing. It's very sensitive writing about a sensory experience. You almost describe all the senses involved in the act. I also have such an experience every morning when I make fresh coffee. I love the aroma, the sound of the coffee falling into the cup, the steam of the hot liquid and when you drink it, the activation of all the nerves in your mouth and throat. For me, every morning is like a confirmation that I'm alive and not living a dream.
I can never think of pomegranates without making the immediate connection to Hades and Persephone. I also haven't enjoyed a pomegranate in at least a year I think because they're always a hassle to eat (someone once said we like the "idea" of pomegranates) but this writing kind of has me craving one...
Dec 17, 2023·edited Dec 17, 2023Liked by Summer Brennan
Beautiful -
and funny, our oldest bought an unseasonably fresh pomegranate, cut it opened and ate half. Then they left to visit a friend for several days, leaving the rest to languish in the fridge. I'd been given the right to finish it, and yesterday I did, meticulously flipping the seeds into a bowl and leaving them to warm.
This task always reminds of my early years growing up, where we had a tree in the yard. My mother was scrupulous in keeping me away for fear of the stains on a young child's clothes. It didn't always work, so I'm getting away with something that is a lot of work at the same time.
In my novel-in-progress, I write about how splitting open a pomegranate brings out a greedy avidity and a methodical emptying in a manner a squirrel would envy. Love this pomegranate encounter, Summer!
Beautiful writing. It's such a sensual fruit and you capture that so well. I remember them being ubiquitous in Turkey at certain times of year. But the dish they remind me of is this Mexican delicacy: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chiles_en_nogada
A complete aside to the gorgeous prose: if you take apart a pomegranate in water, the kernels will sink and the skin will rise. No mess. Drain in a colander and eat the jewels with a spoon.
Hmm…I am not sure how I feel about pomegranates. I really enjoyed your post though and reading several comments has got me thinking, “How do I feel about pomegranates?” A thought I really have never pondered much. My husband grew up with a tree so he is always the one who purchases and brings them home. I enjoy their taste. It is a labor of love to get out the little fruits. Since it looks like a heart I’m sure it’s very good for the heart. I’m not fond of the seeds inside the little fruits but it’s not really why I personally never buy them I honestly just don’t think about it. Lovely piece and inspiring…maybe they’ll make the grocery list this week! 😉
Yes, i've read thd story of Hades and Persephone. Aside from that, we Persians have a celebration at the end of fall named Yalda (Yalda is the longest night in our calendar and also it signifies ths arrival of Lady Winter in our folklore). We celebrate this on Dec 21, which is the end of fall.
The celebration begins when family members gather around and the grandparents start reading sonnets from Hafiz for each family member. Then, they start eating from the Yalda table, which contains a bowl of pomegranates, watermelons, dried nuts and a cake. I love this celebration.
I love the mindful, sensual bloody mess of eating pomegranates, the red stains on fingers crafting this globular fruit into art, the pool of juice that forms on the wooden board, the plink plink of seeds hitting the bowl, the juice bitter and sweet in my mouth, the crunch under my teeth, the way my body feels stronger after eating their iron beads, the way the light shines through these jewels, and the good fortune etched deeply into the roots of the trees that bear them, pomegranates, a word, a fruit, a dream, good tidings and blessings indeed.
Beautiful writing. It's very sensitive writing about a sensory experience. You almost describe all the senses involved in the act. I also have such an experience every morning when I make fresh coffee. I love the aroma, the sound of the coffee falling into the cup, the steam of the hot liquid and when you drink it, the activation of all the nerves in your mouth and throat. For me, every morning is like a confirmation that I'm alive and not living a dream.
I can never think of pomegranates without making the immediate connection to Hades and Persephone. I also haven't enjoyed a pomegranate in at least a year I think because they're always a hassle to eat (someone once said we like the "idea" of pomegranates) but this writing kind of has me craving one...
I love eating pomegranates. It's like eating jewels.
Certain foods have magic. Thank you for sharing
Beautiful -
and funny, our oldest bought an unseasonably fresh pomegranate, cut it opened and ate half. Then they left to visit a friend for several days, leaving the rest to languish in the fridge. I'd been given the right to finish it, and yesterday I did, meticulously flipping the seeds into a bowl and leaving them to warm.
This task always reminds of my early years growing up, where we had a tree in the yard. My mother was scrupulous in keeping me away for fear of the stains on a young child's clothes. It didn't always work, so I'm getting away with something that is a lot of work at the same time.
Love ‘em. As much as they stain my fingies.
In my novel-in-progress, I write about how splitting open a pomegranate brings out a greedy avidity and a methodical emptying in a manner a squirrel would envy. Love this pomegranate encounter, Summer!
So scrumptious. This is fabulous.
My cat thanks you for mentioning her in your post. And I thank you for reminding me of her story.
Beautiful writing. It's such a sensual fruit and you capture that so well. I remember them being ubiquitous in Turkey at certain times of year. But the dish they remind me of is this Mexican delicacy: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chiles_en_nogada
Gorgeous. Beautifully written.
A complete aside to the gorgeous prose: if you take apart a pomegranate in water, the kernels will sink and the skin will rise. No mess. Drain in a colander and eat the jewels with a spoon.
So short, so sweet, thank you for this beautiful piece on something so simple
Hmm…I am not sure how I feel about pomegranates. I really enjoyed your post though and reading several comments has got me thinking, “How do I feel about pomegranates?” A thought I really have never pondered much. My husband grew up with a tree so he is always the one who purchases and brings them home. I enjoy their taste. It is a labor of love to get out the little fruits. Since it looks like a heart I’m sure it’s very good for the heart. I’m not fond of the seeds inside the little fruits but it’s not really why I personally never buy them I honestly just don’t think about it. Lovely piece and inspiring…maybe they’ll make the grocery list this week! 😉