In Praise of Pomegranates

There is the hope of a storm tomorrow.  Only a 49% chance, but that's enough to get hopeful about seeing wet stuff come down from the sky.  This afternoon the sun was out but the wind was picking up so Bruce and I went around outside doing stuff that needed doing.

The pomegranate tree's branches were dipping low from the weight of the fruit, so the two of us got them all picked.  I think that pomegranates are one of the most amazingly beautiful fruits there are.  Ours had sort of languished, pale and rather small, over the summer, and then (seemingly from one day to the next) they plumped up and glowed red.

After picking, I sat on the back porch and did some eating.  Pomegranates are as stunning on the inside as the outside -- their translucent seeds are the color of rubies.  I nibbled mouthfuls of jewels and it was bliss to bite down into their tartness and feel them squirt and the seeds crack.  Eating them is quite the sensuous pleasure.











They also look very pretty in a bowl…

 

…and even prettier in a bowl with a cat positioned in front.






Tonight the wind is gusting hard and the leaves are clattering and whirling around the house.  I took down the glass wind chimes, the hay is covered with a tarp and the dogs are inside.  It may now (Please, please, please!) commence to rain.