Bearing fruit.

There was activity on the outer of the House at Porter Street today.  Max Gutters and Shane Fixit were working on the upper, easing the guttering back onto the house and  assessing the extent of the rest of it.  (Outcome surprisingly not bad - phew!)


Mum, however, was in the garden, getting rid of cobwebs, trimming trees, pulling weeds and revealing treasures...

I have mentioned before my lack of horticultural prowess and knowledge and it is quite feasible that our enthusiasm and excitement at spotting this impressive fruit (on a particularly scrawny plant) over-rode the thought that I should check with the www on how you know if a pom is ripe or overripe, or something.


My only previous encounters with pomegranates has been in Athens, where Evie picks them from the orchard in their yard, halves them, and then belts the heck out of the outside to empty the seeds into a bowl.  I seem to remember a knocking on wood sound. But I might be thinking of clip clopping coconut shells in junior school.


So we picked.  We photographed.  We went inside.  We cut it open. We tasted.  The seeds had little hard bits inside.  (I don't remember that from Greece.) And the outside casing was soft, and made no satisfying "tok" when bashed with the handle of my knife.


It was all a little disappointing, truth be known.


Perhaps I prematurely picked.  Or maybe it was over ripe.  Anyone got a clue?