My potted pomegranate finally flowered again! We carried our houseplants 3,000 miles across the country from Boston, painstakingly lugging them all into our motel room every night, and out of the sub-zero weather of late December in the high plains. It was, frankly, a pain in the ass, and I was stricken when, recently, two of them were stolen right off our front porch, the latest incident in a string of burglaries we've been plagued with. One was a lush jade plant that Dave had nourished from a sprig bought in NYC's Chinatown, and the other was a bay tree which grew so painfully slowly that every new leaf was a triumph, although it sort of defeats the purpose of growing your own bay when you are loath to cut any leaves to throw into the stewpot. Plus which they were in beautiful Moroccan pots which I cherished. That'll learn me to leave anything of value out in the open. But, the pomegranate. Far from freezing, it actually got its leaves badly scorched on our last, epic day of driving, all the way from Salt Lake City to Portland. It was cold outside, but the sun poured in the back window of the wagon, and I didn't even think to protect the plants from burning. It was ironic, as Alanis Morrissette would I think agree. So I had to cut it back, severely, and it was just so unhappy for many long months. But finally, with repotting and judicious fertilizing and the sunny south window in my studio, it is thriving again, which makes me happy, even though the flowers never become fruit. They're fanciful, frilled things, and you can see how they would, in a Mediterranean climate, turn into pomegranates, my all-time favorite most romantic fruit. I'll save the story of my youthful obsession with the Persephone myth for another time. Or rather: there you have it.
I love this church's neon sign. It's right next to my studio building, and often when I leave in the evening it is lit beautifully against the cloudy skies. Which are back to stay for the next 8 months or so. Sigh. I hate waking up in the dark.
In case you can't quite make out the neon, it's the Victory Temple Church of God.
The rainy season is here again.