I wonder if there's something toxic about part of the pomegranate plant-- in the Greek myth of Persephone, she's abducted by the lord of the underworld; while being held captive, she eats a few pomegranate seeds, and as a result her grain-goddess mother (cf. Inari/Daikoku above) is unable to negotiate a permanent release. Winter is thus said to represent the block of months (one for every seed that was eaten) within each year that Persephone must remain in the underworld, during which her mother is in mourning, causing plants to wither and growth to cease. Yet although captive in the underworld, Persephone is its reluctant queen; although her mother is the eternal avatar of fertility, she herself is barren.
(At some point, I was messing around with a historical survey about Persephone in popular literature; in the original Greek myths, she's just picking flowers with her friends when suddenly the earth opens up and swallows her down. This was retained in the Victorian lyric poems that I found, but in all of the 20th-century children's books, the story is turned around to make it sound like the abduction is her fault for disobeying her mother and wandering off by herself. Yeah, there's probably a strong element of indoctrinating the kidlets to stay good and stay in sight, but it still creeps me out because there's still always a subcurrent of rape/paranoia-- Persephone was a naughty girl, so of *course* some strange man is going to snatch her up and carry her off to be his bride, and she'll never completely be able to win free of him, and it'll all be her fault for not listening to Mommy and for eventually needing to *eat*.)
Then again, maybe it is just that the juice is blood-red and the fruits are really complicated to eat, full of fractal nests of tannic bitterness and tart sugar, wrapped up inside a hard shell with dry membranes among the explosive little juice bombs with pits in the middle. (Drat. Now I'm craving a pomegranate. Luckily I think they're coming into season, so there should be some at the farmers' market this weekend.) The trees seem to be self-pollinating, which could further encourage the image of fertility; I'm seeing contradictory refs whether they retain their leaves in winter, which would encourage associations with immortality; but I still can't quite pin down why they have a cross-cultural link with death.
no subject
(At some point, I was messing around with a historical survey about Persephone in popular literature; in the original Greek myths, she's just picking flowers with her friends when suddenly the earth opens up and swallows her down. This was retained in the Victorian lyric poems that I found, but in all of the 20th-century children's books, the story is turned around to make it sound like the abduction is her fault for disobeying her mother and wandering off by herself. Yeah, there's probably a strong element of indoctrinating the kidlets to stay good and stay in sight, but it still creeps me out because there's still always a subcurrent of rape/paranoia-- Persephone was a naughty girl, so of *course* some strange man is going to snatch her up and carry her off to be his bride, and she'll never completely be able to win free of him, and it'll all be her fault for not listening to Mommy and for eventually needing to *eat*.)
Then again, maybe it is just that the juice is blood-red and the fruits are really complicated to eat, full of fractal nests of tannic bitterness and tart sugar, wrapped up inside a hard shell with dry membranes among the explosive little juice bombs with pits in the middle. (Drat. Now I'm craving a pomegranate. Luckily I think they're coming into season, so there should be some at the farmers' market this weekend.) The trees seem to be self-pollinating, which could further encourage the image of fertility; I'm seeing contradictory refs whether they retain their leaves in winter, which would encourage associations with immortality; but I still can't quite pin down why they have a cross-cultural link with death.