Quince
This is an excerpt from the weekly News-Loveletter. If you would like it sent to your inbox directly (with all the other juicy bits, including a mini joy practice), you can add yourself to my mailing list here.
How many fruits can you harvest mid-November in the Pacific Northwest? Not many! The golden quince is an anomaly in this and other ways. Its waxy, rock-hard fruit emits the scent of apple, pineapple, and flowers all at once. This autumn gem is featured in ciders and pies, if you find it at all. And of course, it is found in its namesake delicacy, the Spanish sweet, membrillo.
Pictured above is my desk quince. If you’ve been on the other side of my Zoom screen for classes or coaching in the past month, you may have seen me palm this fruit to smell it. That’s honestly my favorite thing to do with quince. The fruit has such a unique smell. The blossom end, visible above, is particularly fragrant. When I showed this wonder to the five and six year old girls up the street, their eyes widened and they ran to show their mother.
The large, pear-shaped fruits bent our dear tree’s branches low this past autumn. I watched a couple teens go by twice and pick the golden fruit, just to kick it into the gutter. The second time, I ran outside. “Wait!” I called. “I want to show you something.” I picked up the fruit, grinning, and described how it smelled when ripe. I rubbed the fuzz off a patch to show them the shining chartreuse skin beneath.
“I’m sorry I picked it,” said my new friend, looking at his feet.
“It’s ok,” I told him. “You didn’t know. But you must come back and smell the quince when they’re ripe. And if I cook something with them, I will share it. Quince are marvelous.” We introduced ourselves formally, then went our ways. The quince is an excellent match-maker.
When have you watched an act of violence and seen that it stemmed from misunderstanding? Did you find a way to connect and make peace?