02/25/2026
To communicate what this plant means to me would take pages and pages. In fact, the longest chapter in the current book I’m writing is called Pomegranate—an ode to what she has brought me in the form of my greatest underworld journey, and the eventual resurfacing back into the light.
I lived six years in a Spanish city whose namesake, Granada (Pomegranate), was planted and painted and carved into every corner, every facade, every fountain.
When I brought this tiny Pomegranate tree to my garden on Kaua’i, the woman who gave her to me said, “two to three years and you’ll get fruit.” That was nine months ago.
Being able to offer these seeds to the land and to my body, I feel a deep kindred love for Persephone, for Inanna, for all of the women in my life who have surrendered to the decent and allowed themselves to be transformed in the fertile soil of the underworld.
