Sixty years ago my mother planted a pomegranate shoot in her garden that her sister-in-law gave her. The pomegranate tree keeps on giving us ruby red delicious sweetness. Other than just eating the kernels, my mother has made pomegranate jelly and juices them.
Sacha going up the ladder to the top of the tree as fruit on the bottom branche had been picked.
Yesterday, the air was chilly but the warmth of the sun gave us a perfect Autumn day. And, as always, when the pomegranates are ready, we come around to gather them.
The task of turning pomegranates into juice. Each pomegranate holds between 300 to 400 tiny seeds, A pomegranate yields about 1/2 a cup of juice, we set to work squeezing. Now, anyone who’s made pomegranate juice knows this is no delicate process, the juice doesn’t stain but it does look bloody. Squeezing those little lumps of love takes some muscle, especially when the fruit’s juice is as stubborn as the pomegranate’s skin. Sacha and his cousins Sam and Joe took to the task for their Va.
What traditions do you continue to share with your family?
As I looked around, with pomegranate seeds splattered on the outdoor table, red hands and juice dripping from the corners of our mouths, I realized how valuable these simple moments are!
My mom with her Autumn jewel.
My mom has created these moments by her love and generosity towards her family and beyond. With her care she has planted her soul seeds into every inch of her home, garden, community, and in us. Her harvest is bountiful but more so it is widely shared. I pray we her saplings nurture those soul seeds of hers within us.
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