Pomegranates are a visual delight for me. Spherical, or rather globular, they are weighty and tactile and fit in the palm of my hand. Perfectly irregular, and irregularly perfect. Their tough skins are variegated shades of russets and reds and there is little hint of the succulence within. In myths and stories they often are symbols of abundance and fertility.
In Greek mythology Hades abducted her to the underworld. Her mother, the Harvest Goddess Demeter, searched in vain for her and in her despair she turned the earth barren so that nothing would grow. The hungry population cried out to Zeus for help so he ordered Hades to release Persephone. But the rule of the “Fates” condemned anyone who had consumed food or drink in the underworld to spend eternity there. Hades had tricked Persephone into eating six pomegranate seeds during her imprisonment. Zeus and Hades struck a deal. For every seed she had eaten she must spend a month of the year below. Hence there would be six months of light and abundance and six months of darkness and fallow fields. This was the Greeks explanation of the seasons.
On this September day I am looking at a tray of pomegranates before me. Pomegranates – the Fatal Fruit. I am doing a small drawing of them and will finish it just as soon as I have a very quick, and possibly last, dip in our funny little pool. It is after all...
Fin de la Saison