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| Sweet dripping clusters |
Yesterday
afternoon I sat staring at my notebook, pen in hand, but no thoughts. I flipped through some previously sketched
out pieces and thought, “I got nothing.”
Big sigh, looked at photos for muse clarity, and still nada, zip,
zilch. That’s it; I no longer have
anything to write – right – I have words, but not sentences?
Still
seeking my brainchild of illumination, I decided to do what any good writer
would: make grape juice. It just so happens, that the previous night
we had picked a colossal-sized bowl full of green (I think Chardonnay) grapes
from the trellis above our patio. Those
translucent chartreuse tidbits have been oozing nectar-sweet juice all over the
furniture and concrete; a definite indication that they needed to come down
from their loft.
A couple
of years ago I made the mistake of not harvesting the grapes before the
downpours started. Talk about a slippery
slope of an ice rink; who knew overripe grapes could become such a smarmy mess? Needless to say, I learned my lesson. Don’t wait to pick the grapes or you will be
shoveling sticky, grunge.
The
stainless steel magnanimous bowl of peridot beauties took up a good chunk of
the kitchen counter and fruit flies were doing aerial acrobatics; it was time
to roll up my sleeves. The only issue
was I had never made grape juice. Oh, I’ve
had home-made grape juice heaps of times, thanks to someone else’s labors. Enter my trusty computer and a google search.
Jackpot! The process was pretty simple: gather and wash grapes, remove from stems,
mash to release juice, simmer for 10 minutes and put through a sieve…booya! Confession:
the most grueling part was taking the grapes off the stems; so much
hard, tedious plucking. Dang! Why haven’t I squirrelled this lovely liquid
before?
A few
hours later, I’m sitting, rat-a-tatting at the computer. I have gorgeous containers of juice to pop into
the freezer or make into slather-worthy jelly and I have brought back words
that fit into sentences. I just needed
to follow the lure of the fruit flies.
Writing
with sticky fingers that are swatting bugs…
Missy
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I've been reluctant to grow grapes.I was told by the landscape architect that I worked for, that's where black widow spiders hide. If I ever get the courage to give it a try, it sounds fun other than the fruit flies. I have a cup of apple cider vinegar on the counter as I write this to get those coming from the fruit my sister brings in. I hate bugs. But at least you have sentences again. I just need time to put them together.
ReplyDeleteHi Marlene...your description of grape vines sounds like the beginning to a Halloween story...all spooky and mysterious. I do have spiders (like everyone else this time of year) but no black widows!
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