Don’t be fooled. This fine piece is about something much bigger than grapes! Be blessed!
In June, budding bunches had already begun to hang from the grapevines.
This year, there will be many grapes.
My mother planted grapevines at our Maine home who knows how many years ago, trellising them up a white-painted lattice that stands erect beside our century-old barn. My brother, a master gardener, had pruned the vines as anyone prunes ornamental vines. “They’re very healthy,” he told me, as I stood with loppers, assessing the thick mass of red, woody stems.
Healthy they were. And overabundant. If the goal was to cover the trellis wall with leaves, the vines had been pruned well. Dozens of stems competed for space, twining their tendrils around the white trellis frame and each other as they sought to push their leaves into the sun.
As for the fruit, it had become no more than an afterthought in the energetic expansion of these vigorous vines. Longer stems…
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