Pomengranate

I tasted my very first pomengranate the other day. My boss brought them to work because she had too many. (I still haven't gotten used to seeing fruit trees everywhere. We pass several lemon trees every day on our way to work, and they are still laden with fruit!) I asked my supervisor, Elizabeth, how to eat it. She said to only eat the seeds and that they were kind of like kernels of corn. Needless to say I was anxious to try this new fruit (quite alien to the Appalachians I assure you) so cut into it after dinner. Now, maybe I have been watching too much CSI (a biproduct of marriage, apparently), but this cut open pomegranate squirted red juice out all over the place-- as gruesome as any knife-weilding assassin. Then, its chopped up pieces setting on the counter really did resemble violated organs...but I ate some of it anyways. The seeds were like kernels of corn, sort of. I don't think the fruit was very ripe because it tasted very sour, but the strong flavor kind of grew on me after a little while and I liked it more. It's a strange fruit filled with rather crunchy/juicy little seeds. The color of the juice is beautiful, though. It colored the papertowel in a lovely dark magenta. Tres exotic!

In other news, I finally finished a novel I have been reading for ages: Chesapeake by James Michener. But, considering that the novel spans, oh 400+ years, maybe that is more acceptable. I have never read any Michener and quite enjoyed this epic. True, I am partial to the watery marshes of the Eastern Shore of Maryland. True, early colonial history of this area has fascinated me since 7th grade when Sister Xavier taught us Maryland History. True, I appreciate good writing. This is the longest book I have read in a while, probably since Jonathan Strange last winter, and I'll admit to being proud of myself for finishing all 865 pages. It is so satisfying to read a book that really carries you along with its characters and makes you interested in their lives and their familes--even across the centuries. I only wish that there had been some mention of Western MD. Perhaps there could have been one character who braved it all and traveled up to the frigid western boundaries, to be befriended by a family of Irish coal miners in Mt. Savage...

Now I am trying to catch up on the reading for the course that Chris is the TA for this quarter: Children's Lit. The book selection covers a decent survey of "children's lit" begining with A Christmas Carol and culminating with Lemony Snicket's first book (which I highly recommend) . I recently read (for the first time I think) The Wizard of Oz and am currently working on The Wind and the Willows. This book is quite fun, but it makes me homesick for a little burrow in the Wild (East Coast) Woods to curl up in all winter long. I am glad that it is at least getting colder here. The low tonight might even get to 38degrees. We have been listening to Christmas music a lot this week so snow (Walking in a winter wonderland) has been in the back of my mind. A light on the building across from our bedroom window catches the rain in such a way that I swore for one quick second looked like snow. It wasn't of course. And there are these bushes on the medical center campus that have small light purple flowers on them, which, from far away especially if you kind of blur your eyes, look like they have a light dusting of snow on them. But they don't really. At least it is chilly enough for me to wear cardigans to work and turtlenecks. My office has severe mood swings: one minute it is boiling hot and the next minute we are freezing. So layers are essential, and, since I lived the past four years in Boston, this is a habit I am happy to refresh. OK, we are going to watch Frosty the Snowman now.