To the blue, I leave you, and to the oranges and reds.
For you know where the peaches fell,
And where the plums, and the pomegranates, bled.
Would I rather be peeled like an onion, opened like a pomegranate, or eaten like a fig? The answer changes from day to day. And yet if you were to ask me now, this moment, I would say all three. Or I might be a walnut, whose heart is exposed with the breaking of day. My grandfather had a pecan tree. The jays would pick up the nuts, and then […]
Poor little thing. A few days ago, I moved our struggling crape myrtle away from the cedar to a new place at the base of an old camellia stump. After I’d watered it in, I decided it was a pomegranate tree. I’ve been calling it a pomegranate ever since. It seems quite pleased. There will be no fruit this year, of course, but I fully expect it to bloom next […]