A Latin hamadryad who loved fruitful trees above forests and streams, fenced her orchard on the Palatine, and drove away every suitor with a pruning-hook until Vertumnus, god of the turning year, won her by disguise and persuasion.1
Under King Proca on the Palatine, Pomona tended gardens with more skill than any Latin hamadryad. Her name came from the fruit she cherished; she cared nothing for woods or rivers and kept her orchard walled. Silvanus, Picus, and many gods in harvester's guise sought her love in vain.2
Vertumnus, who exceeded them all in devotion, tried every seasonal shape — reaper, mower, fisherman, soldier — and at last entered as a bent old woman, praising the marriage of elm and vine and telling how Anaxarete was turned to stone for scorning Iphis. Pomona listened; when the god dropped his mask and stood in radiant youth, she yielded, and the orchard-goddess was joined to the god of change.3
⁂
the spine ignites as you read · hover a bond on the card — every mention of them lights in the story
