Grandma had two granada (pomegranate) trees in her backyard and as a kid I would stare at those trees for any sign of ripened fruit. Once I’d spot one I would pester Grandma until she allowed me to pick it. As I would cut the fruit open the slippery seeds popped and splashed on the wall and floor. Grandma was never upset about the mess I left behind. She would encourage me to get all the seeds out and put them in a cup
