Flowering Quince Meditation

Inspired by Talking 37th Dream (Rumors of Peace).

Raining Quinces

My first poetry collection, Raining Quinces, is now available through Amazon US and Amazon UK and all European Amazon channels.

The book contains over eighty poems and is divided into three parts: Camino (poems inspired by wandering the French and Spanish pilgrim routes to Santiago), Lightness of Being (light verse and humorous poems) and Blue Fruit (poems on love, life, nature, landscape, art and family relationships). Linking these three sections is the implicit or explicit notion of spiritual quest. The book is dedicated to 'Camino pilgrims everywhere'.

raining quinces

farewell to the land of luscious fruit

where apples hang like rosy pink lanterns

and pumpkins swell like pregnant farmgirls

and bunches of grapes are purple chandeliers

and succulent figs so wickedly feminine

they seem barely legal

i’m back in the land of bitter sloes

where crab apples lie wasted in the orchards

hips and haws food only for the fieldfares

and blackberries are shrivelled up and tart

but it’s always raining quinces

in my heart

For me the quince is the essential taste of the Camino — read more about it here.

Celtic Twilight

It's clear that in this poem by Yeats, one of my favourite poets, he's been influenced by old, romantic Celtic poems such as the one I highlighted here in my last post. (Yeats played a leading role in the Irish Literary Revival, also known as the 'Celtic Twilight', in the late 19th and early 20th centuries.) The 'golden apples' of the last line also recalls my recent post about the quinces/golden apples of the Garden of the Hesperides, the mythical Greek paradise. 

The Song Of The Wandering Aengus

I went out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
And hooked a berry to a thread;

And when white moths were on the wing,
And moth-like stars were flickering out,
I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout.

When I had laid it on the floor
I went to blow the fire a-flame,
But something rustled on the floor,
And some one called me by my name:
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran
And faded through the brightening air.

Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.

WB YEATS

Quince

When a baby is born in Slavonia and Croatia, a quince tree is planted as a symbol of fertility, love and life. WIKIPEDIA

Quince

In my poem raining quinces, the quince is meant to stand for something luscious and exotic. However, I've been vaguely concerned that the celebrated tartness of the raw fruit ran counter to my symbolic intention. So I've been doing a little research - and, thankfully, I needn't have worried. The quince is as romantically exotic as a fruit can ever be. And, although most varieties are astringent, some sweeter varieties have now been developed which can be eaten in their raw, uncooked state.

The quince, or Cydonia oblonga, is the only member of the genus Cydonia, though there are four other species belonging to separate genera - one from China and three from eastern Asia - which are closely related. It's a small, deciduous tree, growing from 5 to 8 metres tall. The flowers are pink or white, with five petals, and the fruit changes from green to a lemony yellow as it ripens. The flesh of the ripened fruit is known for its strong perfume. It's a native of the Caucasus region of south-west Asia - home to the Caucasus Mountains and Mount Elbrus, Europe's highest peak.

The Caucasus

Aphrodite

Quince cultivation is very old, and probably predated the cultivation of apples and pears - to which the quince is related. In fact, the word 'apple' in many ancient texts, including the Bible's Song Of Solomon, may often have been wrongly translated - and should be 'quince'.

References to the quince abound in Greek and Roman mythology as a symbol of love and desire or a symbol of paradise. It's the sacred fruit of Aphrodite, goddess of sex, love and beauty. It was the 'golden apple' in the Garden of the Hesperides, the mythical Greek paradise - giving its name to the Italian word for tomato, pomodoro. It was a ritual offering at weddings in Ancient Greece. And, on her wedding night, a Greek bride would eat a quince to perfume her breath before kissing her new husband - rather like we might suck on a mint today (sorry to be so unromantic!)

On the French and Spanish Caminos you're never far from a quince jelly or jam (quince is coing in French and membrillo in Spanish). Quinces are also used to make cordials, teas, wines, brandies and liqueurs. In Spain I often enjoyed dulce de membrillo, a delicious quince jelly traditionally eaten with manchego cheese.

The Golden Apple

They dined on mince, and slices of quince, / Which they ate with a runcible spoon; / And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand, / They danced by the light of the moon. EDWARD LEAR

(All images from Wikimedia Commons)