Keren Hayesod

My twilight constitutional takes me along the street where fallen mulberries and pomegranate buds catch the last rays of the sun. The mulberries were one of Roschild's bright ideas- Tsfat silk?- that didn't catch on: I have studiously avoided making ceramic pomegranates,but am assured by my son Eliav [who works up the road in a collection of galleries called "Sarah's Tent",mention my name and he'l give you a good price} that that's where the money is. Maybe something tasteful in porcelain,with a copper-red glaze?