Pomegranates: The Writer's Crown

It’s early in the morning and I’m outside zipping up my jacket. Even though the afternoon will be sunny and warm, the days seem to be starting out cooler and cooler. I stop to stare up at the hot air balloon floating over my backyard. It’s so close I can see the people inside. While I was still warm in my bed they were drifting over the vineyards; the leaves on the verge of changing color as dark, ripe grapes hang heavy on the vines. I pick a fig off the tree by my shed and split open its purple skin, smiling at the red flesh before devouring it. As I walk downtown I notice pomegranates are beginning to blush. Change is in motion and it’s officially fall.

When we are taught Greek mythology, we learn that without the pomegranate we wouldn’t have seasons. Persephone is abducted by Hades and taken to the underworld. Even though Persephone knows that if she eats or drinks anything in the underworld she will never escape, Hades tricks her into eating a few pomegranate seeds. Persephone is doomed by the berries and her mother, Demeter, goddess of the harvest, mourns her daughter’s absence. The earth becomes desolate. Zeus must intervene. A bargain is struck. Each year Persephone is forced to spend a month in the underworld for each of the pomegranate seeds she ate. Demeter annually mourns her daughter’s absence during those lonely months causing plants to hibernate and die. Persephone must be down below now because I can feel the cold days coming ahead.

For the writer, the cold is nothing to dread. Although it’s hard not to mourn the loss of those sunny days in the hammock or at the beach, as the pomegranates ripen into heavy ruby red orbs there is a hidden abundance of juicy arils inside. We remember Pietro Aretino’s dictum, “Let us love winter, for it is the spring of genius.” As the landscape loses its lushness and we’re left with stark forms in the landscape, we will either be inspired by what was hidden during the overgrowth or we will dress the trees with our own imaginations. When it’s cold, our minds alight. We feel more than the cold.

Even physically I like to touch things when I write, feel their texture, study the nuances in color as I turn them around in my hands. Smooth, dense pomegranates are a favorite and I’ll soon be planting my own tree to be reminded of the nature of the seasons every time I’m out back. For now, I have my diverse and colorful hand-made ceramic pomegranates I’ve collected from Israeli artists over the years to inspire me. It’s said that King Solomon’s crown was fashioned after the crown of the pomegranate. Let’s let the cool months ahead be the writer’s crown as well. As you trade in your bathing suit for a blanket, allow your mind to be set ablaze in spite of the diminishing warmth of the sun. It’s nearly time to break open the deceivingly smooth outer layer to reveal the juicy red arils within.