1491: The plum you're going to eat next summer by Gayle Brandeis

Summary

Episode Summary: The Slowdown – Episode 1491: "The plum you're going to eat next summer" by Gayle Brandeis
Hosted by Maggie Smith | April 10, 2026

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Main Theme

This episode of The Slowdown centers on hope—its creative, imaginative demands—and how poetry, much like hope, invites us to envision a better world. Host Maggie Smith reflects on the parallel between hope and poetry as acts of creativity and imagination, offering Gayle Brandeis’s “The plum you’re going to eat next summer” as a touchstone for “gorgeously hopeful” thinking.

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Key Discussion Points & Insights

1. Reframing Hope and Poetry

(01:17 – 03:46)

• Misunderstandings of Poetry and Hope:

  • Maggie Smith addresses common misconceptions: “Poetry gets a bad rap for being fussy or stodgy or just too difficult to understand, as if it's a riddle that only a select few may solve.”
    (01:20)
  • She parallels this with the way hope is misjudged as “soft and easy,” against the reality: “Hope is actually really hard because it requires something that poetry also requires: imagination.”
    (02:17)

• Imagination as a Prerequisite:

  • “To feel optimistic, you have to believe that the future has better, brighter things in store for you. So hope is inherently creative.”
    (02:40)
  • Maggie draws a succinct distinction:

    “If hope is imaginative, then pessimism is a failure of imagination.”
    (02:53)

• The Role of Art in Troubled Times:

  • She acknowledges the difficulty of optimism amidst suffering but argues for the necessity of making art:

    “This brokenness is exactly why we need more poems, more paintings, more films, more plays… That is the very definition of art. And to send them out into the world is wildly, impractically, gorgeously hopeful.”
    (03:23)

2. Invitation to Hope and Shared Reflection

(03:46 – 04:47)

• Smith makes a personal, communal appeal:

  “To believe that good things are coming, that the world has more in store for us than we can see for ourselves, may be a challenge… but I think we're up for the task. I’m willing to be hopeful if you are.”
  (03:57)

• She positions today’s poem as a “good start” toward shared hope, emphasizing:

  “Hope, like a poem, is best shared.”
  (04:43)

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Featured Poem:

“The plum you’re going to eat next summer” by Gayle Brandeis
(04:45 – 05:51)

Maggie reads Brandeis’s poem in its entirety, a meditation on anticipation, interconnectedness, and unseen growth:

• The poem focuses on a future plum, emphasizing its invisible journey:

  "The plum you’re going to eat next summer doesn’t exist yet. Its potential lives inside a tree you’ll never see, in an orchard you’ll never see."

• The fruit’s journey is marked by elements the eater will never know:

  “Touched by a certain number of water droplets... angles of light, a finite amount of bugs and dust, motes and hands you’ll never know.”

• The transformation process — “gathering sugar, gather mass… will harden at its center so it can soften towards your mouth.”

• The poem’s parting reassurance:

  "The plum you are going to eat next summer is growing just for you."

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Notable Quotes & Memorable Moments

• On the demands of hope:

  “Hope is actually really hard because it requires something that poetry also requires: imagination.” – Maggie Smith (02:17)

• On imagination and pessimism:

  “If hope is imaginative, then pessimism is a failure of imagination.” – Maggie Smith (02:53)

• On art as defiant hope:

  “To make things that don’t exist yet and don’t need to exist, because that is the very definition of art. And to send them out into the world is wildly, impractically, gorgeously hopeful.” – Maggie Smith (03:23)

• On the poem's central message:

  “The plum you are going to eat next summer is growing just for you.” – Gayle Brandeis, from the poem (05:45)

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Important Timestamps

• 01:17 – Maggie Smith’s reflections on poetry, hope, and imagination.
• 02:53 – “If hope is imaginative, then pessimism is a failure of imagination.”
• 03:23 – The value of making and sharing art during hard times.
• 04:43 – “Hope, like a poem, is best shared.”
• 04:45 – Reading of “The plum you’re going to eat next summer.”
• 05:51 – Episode transitions to credits (end of main content).

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Episode Tone

Maggie Smith’s delivery is warm, contemplative, and gently encouraging. She speaks directly to the listener, inviting them into a shared space of reflection and possibility, maintaining a lyrical and accessible tone throughout.

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Conclusion

This episode invites listeners to embrace hope as an act of creative imagination akin to writing or reading poetry. Through both Smith’s musings and Brandeis’s poem, the episode encourages us to trust in unseen growth, the power of creation, and the comfort of sharing hope—beautifully summed up in the thought that, somewhere now, “the plum you are going to eat next summer is growing just for you.”

Transcript

[A]

Happy Poetry Month Friends of the Slowdown are invited to celebrate with a special offer from Poetry magazine this April. An annual subscription to Poetry includes a limited edition notebook. The notebook features a devious quote from Dorothy Elaski on its cover. I'm almost always lying in a poem, and the full poem is inside. Use the notebook for your own poems, lies and secrets. Subscribe [e-mail] lying National Poetry Month is

[B]

the perfect time to champion the daily

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pause you count on from the Slowdown. Your donation keeps these free moments of reflection available to anyone who needs them. No paywall, just poetry and perspective in

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a short, steady ritual.

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Celebrate Poetry this month by helping more

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people access it every weekday.

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Donate and show your [e-mail].

[B]

I'm Maggie Smith, and this is the Slowdown. Hope is as misunderstood and as mischaracterized as poetry. Poetry gets a bad rap for being fussy or stodgy or just too difficult to understand, as if it's a riddle that only a select few few may solve. But slow down, listener. You and I know that poetry is bigger and wider and deeper and more accessible than all of that. As for hope, it gets a bad rap for being soft and easy. But hopeful people aren't soft. They aren't uninformed. They aren't smiling Pollyannas who think everything is fine. Hope is actually really hard because it requires something that poetry also requires imagination. Hope allows you to envision what might be up ahead, even when you see nothing. To feel optimistic, you have to believe that the future has better, brighter things in store for you. So hope is inherently creative. Or, to put it another way, if hope is imaginative, then pessimism is a failure of imagination. I know optimism can be a tough sell when there's so much suffering, so much difficulty in the world. But this brokenness is exactly why we need more poems, more paintings, more films, more plays, more art. To make things that don't exist yet and don't need to exist, because that is the very definition of art. And to send them out into the world is wildly, impractically, gorgeously hopeful. And to believe that good things are coming, that the world has more in store for us than we can see for ourselves may be a challenge. When the news is as harrowing as it is, it may be a challenge to remain hopeful and But I think we're up for the task. I'm willing to be hopeful if you are listening and reflecting on today's poem, which is gorgeously hopeful, is a good start. And hope, like a poem is best shared the plum you're going to eat next summer by Gail Brandeis the plum you're going to eat next summer doesn't exist yet. Its potential lives inside a tree you'll never see, in an orchard you'll never see. We'll be touched by a certain number of water droplets before it reaches you, by certain angles of light, by a finite amount of bugs and dust, motes and hands you'll never know. The plum you are going to eat next summer will gather sugar, gather mass, will harden at its center so so it can soften toward your mouth. The plum you're going to eat next summer doesn't know you exist. The plum you are going to eat next summer is growing just for you.

[A]

The Slowdown is a production of American Public Media in partnership with the Poetry Foundation. To get a poem delivered to you daily, go to slowdownshow.org and sign up for our newsletter. Find us on Instagram, lodownshow and blue [e-mail] the Slowdown is written by me, Maggie Smith. The show is produced by Micah Kielbon and Maria Wurtel. Our music is composed by Kyle Andrews, engineering by Josh Savageo and Maurizio Dierko. Our editor and digital producer is Jordan Turgeon. Additional production help by Susanna Sharpless, Ruby Sigmund, and Lauren Humpert. APM's Director of Distribution is Amy Lundgren, and our president is Chandra Kavati.

[B]

Hi, It's Maggie. The Slowdown helps you discover new poems and revisit old favorites. You can help us continue showcasing poetry from a diverse swath of authors by making a tax deductible gift. Head to slowdownshow. Org Donate today.