Fruit for Thought

And there was always the bend in the road! “‘God’s in His heaven, all’s right with the world,’” whispered Anne softly. 

So ends Anne of Green Gables, with the quote from Robert Browning (1812-1889) resting on the page and in the reader’s mind. A recent morning made me think of Anne and also Browning’s original lines: 

“The year’s at the spring,
And day’s at the morn;
Morning’s at seven;
The hill-side’s dew pearl’d;
The lark’s on the wing;
The snail’s on the thorn;
God’s in His heaven—
All’s right with the world!”

The above lines are found in Pippa Passes (1841), a verse drama that was published by Browning as part of a series of pamphlets entitled Bells and Pomegranates. Here in California, thanks to the 18th-century Spaniards who introduced them, I am surrounded by pomegranates hanging on trees like Christmas balls. The birds love them; they turn them into impromptu feeders, sitting on the fruit itself while happily pecking away at the seeds until their small beaks are vibrantly red from the juice.

A single pomegranate valiantly hanging on at the Getty Villa in January. 

I have liked Browning’s verse since I first read it years ago, but did not know until this week that the literary package in which it was delivered included pomegranates. Browning explained that his enigmatic title made reference to a high priest’s robe in the Bible: “A golden bell and a pomegranate, a golden bell and a pomegranate, upon the hem of the robe round about” (Exodus 28:34, KJV). Browning said this was to represent the mixture of “music with discoursing, sound with sense, poetry with thought.”

Pomegranates are storied, ancient things, claimants of a jewel-like beauty and historic symbolism. Originating in Asia, they filled the Mediterranean gardens of Greece and Rome and were featured in Renaissance paintings, held by expressive hands.

Sandro Botticelli, Madonna of the Pomegranate (c. 1487) (Uffizi Gallery)

Browning associated the fruit with discourse, sense, and thought; similarly, a pomegranate—timeless, constant—reminds me of my family’s Thanksgiving. It was always my job to open one, the distinctive fragrance of the fruit being released with the first cut. Looking at it from the top reveals a subtle geometry and hints at the organized sections inside. At last the bowl of separated arils would gleam like garnets or rubies, providing an acidic burst of freshness, much like cranberries, in contrast to the richness of the rest of the meal. 

2014's Thanksgiving, with pomegranate seeds to the right of mashed rutabaga, another holiday staple. 

I am pleasantly surprised at Browning’s interest in the pomegranate, and how it is related to the song from Pippa Passes. To me, it is not only a fruit, it is a symbol of Thanksgiving, recalling the same enduring sentiments and simple joys that Pippa expressed and Anne echoed in the world of literature.

In this picture, a little splash of sun was shining on my design. Please visit the Designs page for the original image.