My favorite season has my favorite fruit. Punica granatum or Pomegranate could not be more perfect. The thin rind, the explosive sour sweet seed pods are worth every trial and error to eat each one seed at a time with or without getting its red juice all over you. William-Adolphe Bouguereau probably understood that when he composed this painting of a girl holding a Pomegranate. He captures so well (with his orientalist gaze) how one should feel when in possession of this fruit. Her face is my face when someone notices I am eating one.

I know there are many “best” ways to eat a pomegranate. I like to cut the skin very slightly and then break it apart using my thumbs easily, carefully, and open it to eat each seed with slow, deliberate joy. It often ends up looking like a massacre. Just don’t bother me about it. And no, you may not have any.

We had some “ornamental” pomegranate bushes (Punica granatum ‘Nana’ (Dwarf Pomegranate) a while ago. It was part of the 80s landscaping that I have had to slowly revise over the years after moving to this house. The landscape was a combination of trees, shrubs and roses whose one common feature was spikes and thorns. I reacted to being pricked by swearing out loud and promising (to no one) that I would remove these garden hazards and replace them with spike-free friendly plants more suited to a house that has people. ‘Nana’ was a bush that the previous owners liked to shape into a sphere. And during the winter it would look just like the Dr. Seuss-looking junipers or the box-shaped boxwoods that we’ve since allowed to naturally grow. As a fan of free growth, I prefer to hard prune plants in the winter to enable the glory to appear in the spring or early summer when they look their best. But in our first winter here, our pomegranate bush looked like a giant nest with its twisted stems and thorns post leaf-drop. Additionally, it was planted by a walkway. The entangled stems and poor placement was not helping this one to thrive. So, I uprooted it for the compost pile. This is after all what gardeners really do. We are the editors of our landscape. We care about what we care about and we tolerate nothing less.

In another area of the garden, we planted the fruiting variety that I covet. I look forward someday to have the ability to walk outside and pick a pomegranate from my tree. If you happen by and see my tree full of fruit, you may pick one (just one; there will be a sign that says so) And please, be careful with your pull as to not break a branch. Otherwise, the offer to share will be rescinded and you will ruin it for everyone.