Tag Archives: Pomegranates

How Do I Love Thee? Let Me Count the Ways.

shakespeare in love

My apologies to Elizabeth Barrett Browning.  While thinking about love poems the other night, her sonnet was the first that came to mind.  Except that I was thinking Shakespeare wrote it.

How do I love thee?
Let me count the ways. 
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height 
My soul can reach….

I did get this sonnet by Shakespeare attributed correctly (#116):

Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken….

Then I remembered the gorgeous and sad and possibly-too-relevant love poem “Dover Beach” by Matthew Arnold:

Ah, love, let us be true 
To one another! for the world, which seems 
To lie before us like a land of dreams, 
So various, so beautiful, so new….

Why love poems?  After all, Valentine’s Day is a long ways off.  Well, come late fall I’m feeling more than a little sad about the absence of delicious peaches and nectarines, plums and strawberries, blackberries, melons and even blueberries.  And only two things relieve that sadness: the appearance of pomegranates and persimmons in the markets.  I LOVE them!  I should write a poem about them!

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It’s November; no plums in the markets.  Thanks, Sara D, for the photo.

Actually, I don’t need to write a pomegranate poem.  Kahlil Gibran has already written the perfect piece about the fruit.  Bear with me (as the pomegranate tree doth bear her fruit :)) – and take time to read his essay.  It’s thought-provoking, relevant, and will make you smile.  I may start looking into quince.

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Thanks, again,  Sara D,  for the nice pomegranate photo!

The Pomegranate

Once when I was living in the heart of a pomegranate, I heard a seed
saying, “Someday I shall become a tree, and the wind will sing in
my branches, and the sun will dance on my leaves, and I shall be
strong and beautiful through all the seasons.”

Then another seed spoke and said, “When I was as young as you, I
too held such views; but now that I can weigh and measure things,
I see that my hopes were vain.”

And a third seed spoke also, “I see in us nothing that promises so
great a future.”

And a fourth said, “But what a mockery our life would be, without
a greater future!”

Said a fifth, “Why dispute what we shall be, when we know not even
what we are.”

But a sixth replied, “Whatever we are, that we shall continue to
be.”

And a seventh said, “I have such a clear idea how everything will
be, but I cannot put it into words.”

Then an eight spoke—and a ninth—and a tenth—and then many—until
all were speaking, and I could distinguish nothing for the many
voices.

And so I moved that very day into the heart of a quince, where the
seeds are few and almost silent.

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Quiet Time with Quince

 

I believe that Gibran’s little essay might be the perfect topic for a Thanksgiving dinner discussion.  Andy believes he has the perfect solution for transporting Thanksgiving pies and staying out of jail (see today’s Andy’s Corner).

And now to the recipes.

While it’s obvious that pomegranate seeds are beautiful as a topping for almost any salad – and even meat and vegetable dishes, they’re also wonderful incorporated into a dish.

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